Step by Step
by MortalCity
Summary: “It was fun,” he continued absently, “but the whole night, I kept wishing she was you.” MerDer. Post 4.07. In which Derek dates, Cristina rants, and Meredith shows up for a little more conversation.
1. A Little More Conversation

**Author's Note:**** Before you get started with this story, I just wanted to say a really heartfelt thank-you for all of the wonderful reviews you guys have given the last story so far. You left me grinning like a fool at my computer screen, full of warm and fuzzy things that made me one of Cristina's happy pod people. Thank you SO much for the support. It means the world, and I appreciate it immensely.**

**STEP BY STEP**

Derek Shepherd was tired. An hour ago, he'd felt lively for the first time in weeks, but now? Now, he was just tired.

An hour ago, he had been drinking, and laughing, and flirting up a storm with a cute brunette oncologist. It had been his first foray into the dating world after Meredith, and to say that he'd been apprehensive would have been a gross understatement, but the date had actually gone well. Rose, the oncologist, was essentially the perfect woman. She was smart, and funny, and gorgeous, and any other time, he would've been more than happy to lead her out of the bar and into his trailer for a midnight rendezvous. Unfortunately for Rose, the rose tint of the evening had been overshadowed entirely by the grey-green of Meredith's eyes as they lurked in the back of his head.

Rose was smart, and funny, and gorgeous, but she wasn't Meredith. In fact, her bright and shiny attitude made her the farthest thing from Meredith.

Apparently, in the month that Derek had returned to the dating world, "not Meredith" had become a dealbreaker. Because he had enjoyed the conversation immensely, and flirting was fun—he was delighted, after all, to discover that he could still have a positive effect on women—but the thought of playing tonsil-hockey with the cute oncologist had left him with a strange, nauseated feeling.

At the end of the night, Rose had leaned in to kiss him, and all he'd been able to think was, _How in the hell am I going to explain this to Meredith?_

He pulled up next to the trailer and heaved a painful sigh as he cut the engine.

A smart, funny, gorgeous girl had been very obviously into him, and he'd sent her home with a kiss on the cheek and the mother of all dismissals; "We should do this again sometime."

Exhaustion seeped deep into his bones, inciting more than a physical ache.

_Life is not supposed to be this hard. Love is not supposed to be this hard._

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he slammed the car door shut and began the short trek from the car to the front steps.

"Okay, seriously? Seriously?! I know you're all about melodrama and secret pain and cultivating deep, passionate love within unsuspecting females, but…this is low. Even for you, this is low."

When he didn't immediately recognize the voice, Derek looked up. As soon as he caught sight of the figure perched on his favorite porch chair, however, he decided that looking up had been a big mistake.

"That's my chair," he grumbled, directing his gaze back to the wet grass. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, it registered that the grass had gotten unacceptably long. _How do you mow twelve acres of lawn?_

"Is it? Would you be willing to fight for it?"

Derek shot his visitor an irritated look of disbelief.

"No, seriously. I'm just asking. Because you don't seem to have much in your life that you're actually willing to _fight_ for."

He ran a tired hand over his tired face and tried to take in enough of a breath to keep a rein on his temper. "Dr. Yang…"

"You know what? Don't do that. Don't 'Dr. Yang' me. You're not my boss right now, okay? Right now, you're just the asshole who keeps screwing with my friend."

His eyes widened incredulously, and he gave a little snort of disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

She dipped her chin pointedly and glared—actually _glared_—at him. "Look…you get that the McDreamy thing is sarcasm, right? None of us actually think you're good enough for her."

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and ran a hand through his coarse curls. "I know."

"After she drowned, when we saw you sitting in the hallway, crying like a baby, we started to think you might be good enough. Well…not good enough, but not the soul-sucking disease with which you'd previously been identified."

Derek winced, and Cristina leaned back in the lawn chair.

"After today, though, I think we're all done accepting the excuses Meredith makes for you. You're a lonely coward who cares too much about his pride to actually make an effort with the woman he claims to love."

Derek slumped down onto the front step with a groan and leaned his head back, closing his eyes to quiet the noise in his head. "You say that like you're reporting post-op conclusions."

"I'm a surgeon," Cristina snapped. "It's my job to be precise."

Derek buried his face in his hands in a vain attempt to shut Cristina out of…well, anything, really. Be it the date, or the scotch, or the sudden, unexpected, and unpleasant company, he was quickly developing a migraine. He cleared his throat painfully and decided that distance was the way to go. _Meredith's friend or not, this isn't her business Our not-relationship is none of her business._

"Well, Dr. Yang—as you so eloquently pointed out—right now, I'm not your boss, and we're not at the hospital."

She sounded remarkably unimpressed. "Your point?"

"You're not a surgeon right now," he concluded tiredly.

Her cold, detached tone morphed immediately into something sharp, irate, and ugly. "First of all, I'm always a surgeon. And secondly…I'm not acting as a surgeon right now. I'm acting as Meredith's person." She expelled an angry sigh, sending her curly locks astray, and leaned forward, planting her elbows in her thighs as she studied him with obvious disgust. "Do you even care about her?"

That question immediately permeated the exhaustion. Tired or not, Derek was instantaneously offended, and it showed in the glare he sent her way when he finally found the energy to glance up. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, please," she retorted with another roll of the eyes. "You went on a _date _with someone else. Meredith has me—_me—_plowing through psych books so I can diagnose her like the shrink that I most definitely am _not_. She's decided to abandon tequila—a decision which I detest to the utmost degree—so that she can, and I quote, 'fix herself.' I know you two are operating under the guise of sex and mockery or whatever, but…you're a neurosurgeon, Derek. You can't honestly be stupid enough to think that Meredith actually perceives this _thing _between the two of you as nothing more than sexual attraction. She's working her ass off to 'get ready' for you, and you're going on dates with other women." Finally spent, Cristina leaned back in the stolen chair and shook her head incredulously before leveling Derek with one of the coldest gazes he'd ever received. "Seriously. Stop playing with her head. She deserves better than you."

Derek was getting progressively more frustrated with his spiteful visitor, but he couldn't deny that the image of a sober Meredith thumbing through psych books with Cristina left him feeling strangely warm and fuzzy inside. _She's trying. She's actually trying._

Meredith's progress, however, wasn't enough to incline him towards her bitter best friend.

"Dr. Yang," he began sharply.

"Oh, please," she grumbled. "You know what? You're seriously kidding yourself if you think this conversation is headed anywhere professional."

Derek rolled his eyes skyward and began a laborious count to ten. "You know," he began tersely, "there are two sides to every story."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cristina replied with mock concern. "Did I give you the impression that I'm actually interested in hearing your side?"

Derek met her accusatory stare with an expression somewhere between offense and incredulity. "You're really not a nice person," he returned, his voice belying his surprise.

She leaned back against the chair and folded her arms expectantly. "Then I guess we have something in common."

For a brief, wonderful moment, they sat in silence, and Derek closed his eyes to revel in the sounds of nature that were suddenly apparent. Unfortunately, Cristina broke the tranquility far too soon for his headache to subside.

"You owe her more than this, you know."

She was like a predatory bird, unrelenting and doggedly persistent as she swooped in for attack after attack, each one sharper than the first. She was angry and determined and relentless, and Derek…Derek was just tired.

"I know."

"So _do _something about it."

He gave a short, hollow laugh. "I did."

"You did," she repeated skeptically.

He'd never had someone doubt his character quite so vocally. The fact that the skeptic was his lover's best friend was more than a little unnerving.

"I did," he repeated firmly. His head felt like lead as he tilted it to face her. "I love her, Cristina," he said plainly. "Is that really so hard to believe?"

She arched a single eyebrow and pursed her lips angrily, then glanced out over the horizon. He couldn't tell whether or not she'd even heard him.

Thankfully, his vain attempt to clear his conscience was interrupted by the sounds of another, more distinctive engine cutting off, followed by an incredulous chuckle he would've recognized anywhere.

"Um…" Meredith's shoulders shook with unspoken amusement, her eyes glittering merrily as they danced between Derek's slumped form and Cristina's rigid posture. "What're we doing?"

The corners of her mouth curled slightly as she voiced the question, and the throb at Derek's temples became a dull ache in the warmth of her unexpected smile.

On the porch, Cristina waved a hand, gesturing loosely. "McDreamy need a lecture."

Meredith arched an eyebrow expectantly in Derek's direction, an amused smile still pulling at her features. "Is that why you called me?"

Before Derek could respond, the rigid, unrelenting resident on his porch let out a gasp of surprise and—of course—annoyance.

"You called her?" she cried in disbelief.

Derek's smile of amusement mirrored Meredith's as he glanced back up at Cristina. Before, her presence had been nothing but an obvious irritation, but something about the way Meredith was smiling at him made it okay that Cristina Yang had taken up residence in his favorite lawn chair.

"I told you I was doing something about it," he responded cheekily, his indigo eyes dancing in the porch lights.

"And what are you doing, exactly?" Cristina sneered, leaning forward in a menacing fashion.

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Cristina…" she began warningly.

"What? You seriously want me to leave you here with him? Alone?"

The girls exchanged pointed looks that Derek didn't understand.

Cristina exhaled incredulously. "Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me. He went on a date! With someone _else_!"

Meredith heaved a sigh. "Cristina," she repeated, pleading.

"Fine." To Derek's surprise and immediate relief, Cristina Yang stood and brushed her pants off. He smiled brightly until she directed her reproachful gaze at him. "You'd better not do anything stupid," she grumbled threateningly.

He chuckled. "Cristina, I'm an idiot, not an asshole."

Cristina rolled her eyes as she strode purposefully down the steps and stopped in front of Meredith, looking her person solemnly in the eye. "Call me if he does something stupid," she told her seriously. "Call me, and we'll lift that ban on tequila."

Meredith smiled in a way that was amused and grateful, all at once. "Cristina…go home."

Cristina rolled her eyes for the countless time and began heading towards her bike. "I'm serious!" she called over her shoulder. "Shepherd, if you fuck this up, I know where you sleep!"

Her threat was punctuated by the roar of the Harley's engine, and she was gone before either of them could respond.

"So she cornered you?" Meredith began expectantly, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing.

He looked up at her, and the world stopped.

He'd forgotten how much he loved her smile. Lately, there hadn't been much smiling, what with the dark and twisty and the break-up and the…well, the sex and mockery had incited plenty of smiles, but none of them felt anywhere near as genuine as the one with which he'd suddenly been gifted. During sex, things were less about Meredith smiling and more about Meredith being naked. Now…now, it was all about Meredith smiling, and the light in her eyes made him smile with equal sincerity.

_I love you. _

The thought registered and faded without voice as Meredith sat down next to him and nudged him gently with her shoulder.

"Derek…"

His smile became a full-on grin. "What?"

"Cristina?"

"Oh!" He laughed. "She did. Corner me, I mean. She's…" He coughed, torn between the desire to tread lightly and the need to find the perfect word to describe the force that was Cristina Yang. "Charming," he deadpanned finally, trusting his tone to convey what his vocabulary could not.

Meredith giggled, and the headache fizzled and died.

"Shut up," she murmured, her smile apparent in her tone. "You're one to talk, you know? You were best friends with Mark Sloan."

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the lighthearted jab. "Now he really _is_ charming," he remarked dryly.

"A quality which hasn't exactly certainly served you well, as I remember," Meredith shot back with a smirk.

"Whatever," he mumbled delightedly, bumping her shoulder with his. "He's tolerable now."

She glanced defiantly up at him, her eyes sparkling impishly. "Cristina's tolerable."

Derek groaned at the memory of Yang's carefully crafted tongue-lashing. "I beg to differ."

They were silent for a moment, basking in the glow of the familiar banter that they'd missed during the drama of the past few months. Derek was contemplating whether or not to chance snaking an arm around Meredith's shoulders when she broke the silence.

"You never answered my question," she mused gently.

He expelled a contented sigh. "Which one?"

"Cristina," Meredith clarified again. "Was she the reason you called?"

Derek gave a short, loud laugh. "What? No. No, I called you before I even knew she was here."

"Oh."

Derek winced. Despite the fact that Meredith rambled incurably, she rarely said anything that gave him any clue as to what was going on in her head at any given moment. However, every so often, she'd expel one word that would carry with it more emotion than he would've deemed it capable of expressing. That particular "oh" had been full of resentment, rejection, and, unfortunately, the loss of the evening's lighthearted mood.

After trying for a few minutes to decipher the inspiration behind the myriad of emotions, Derek gave up and decided to risk being direct.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She heaved a labored sigh. "Nothing. It's just…" She trailed off and sat a little bit straighter, ridding her tone of anything symbolic. "So you called for other reasons, then."

"Yes," he agreed tritely. His brow furrowed as he tried desperately to read her.

She shot a quick, fake smile in his direction and stood up, brushing herself off much the same way that Cristina had. "Well, then, let's get to it."

Derek's look of intense study became a look of confusion. "What?"

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Sex and mockery, Derek. That's why you called me, right?"

His frown deepened. "Huh?"

"You know, for a brain surgeon, you're really not very articulate." She cocked her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Sex. You're horny, right? That's why you called."

His eyes widened at her implications. "What? No! No! God…Meredith…no. This wasn't a booty call." He reached over and put a hand on her leg. He tried to tell himself that he was reassuring her and not him. "I called because I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh."

There was that word again. It took every ounce of energy he had to keep his facial expression neutral as he watched her bite her lower lip.

"Meredith…"

She waved a hand dismissively as she sat back down. "No, it's fine. I'm fine. I…I get it. You had a date, and now you want to talk." She plastered on a supportive smile and turned to face him, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Well? How was it?"

Derek was very, very confused. Trying to read Meredith's mood swings was usually difficult, but after a thirty-six-hour shift and a date with the bright and shiny oncologist, it was damn near impossible. "How was what?"

"Your date." Something in her smile tightened. "How was your date?"

"Fine," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That's not…"

"It's okay," she assured him. Her tone was so painfully bright and shiny that it stabbed at his eardrums. "I…it's fine. We're friends. We're…whatever. You're dating. You're allowed to date. I'm fine."

_Four sisters, _Derek thought incredulously. _Four sisters, and I still have no clue what she's thinking._

"You're fine?" he repeated in disbelief.

"I'm fine," Meredith concluded tersely. "Tell me about your date."

Derek stared at the ground in frustrated bewilderment. He didn't understand how the conversation had gone south so quickly.

"She wasn't you."

The words flew out unchecked and sounded bitter, even to his own ears. They sounded as though he was being spiteful.

He wasn't being spiteful. He wasn't being anything. He wasn't even tired anymore.

Beside him, Meredith pulled her knees more tightly to her chest. Her smile wavered, and she followed Derek's gaze to the ground.

"That's…good," she mumbled finally, blinking back the tears that were suddenly pricking her eyes.

_Don't give up on me_, she wanted to say. _I'm reading books and disposing of ashes and trying really, really hard to be nice to my fake sister. I asked Cristina for psychological help. I read Susan's file to Lexie. I went trick-or-treating for ears._

She wanted so badly to say the words, but she couldn't. She couldn't say anything because she was dumbstruck by the fact that he'd been happy when she'd gotten there. He'd been happy, and someone else had been responsible for it, and now that she was here, all he seemed to be was angry.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. _Just get through this. Working on things means getting through this. You didn't trick-or-treat for him. You did it for you. Because you'd never gone before. And that boy needed ears._

A snort of disbelief jerked her out of her shameful reverie.

"Good?" He laughed bitterly. "Meredith…it's not good. It's awful. It's…it's a fucking dealbreaker."

"What?" Suddenly, Meredith was the one confused.

His eyes met hers quickly, and the ugly, discontented look on his face transformed immediately into the wounded, mournful Derek look she recognized. It was _the _look. _Their _look. The McDreamy look.

She just didn't understand why he was using it now.

"She's not you," he repeated seriously, poignantly. He followed it with a smile that made his eyes sparkle, and her world stopped.

"Oh."

It was breathless and reverent and modest and full of sudden realizations.

"Oh," she repeated quietly. She seemed to be saying that word a lot this evening. "But…" she trailed off for a moment, trying to find the right words. "But you seemed happy. Earlier, I mean. In the bar. With the date."

He chuckled lightly, breaking their gaze to look out over his land.

"It should've been perfect," he admitted. "I mean, she was funny, and she was smart, and she…well, you saw her. You know she's pretty. She's an attending in the oncology department, so she understands the demands of a medical career. She's an interesting person, too. She just…" He trailed off and shrugged. "She's not you," he concluded, returning his gaze to Meredith. "And it was fun," he continued absently, "but the whole night, I kept wishing she was you."

Meredith expelled the breath she'd been holding and sought to strangle the tiny, cynical little voice that whispered "I hope this isn't going to be another wayward proposal" into the silence. She glanced up at Derek and offered him a small, modest, embarrassed smile and hoped fervently that he couldn't hear the way her heart was racing.

"So this talk," she began tentatively, hating how much she sounded like a frightened child. "It's not a bad talk?"

He smiled softly and reached for her hand, warming her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. "No, it's not a bad talk."

"You're not mad," she continued doubtfully. "About the sex and mockery, I mean. You're not mad."

"I'm not mad," he assured her. "I…I have a proposal."

At the mention of the word "proposal," Meredith's mouth twitched, and Derek used every disciplinary tactic he'd learned to keep from laughing.

"A…_proposal_," she repeated, her tone relaying that which her expression held at bay.

The corners of his mouth curled in amusement. "I'd like to add to the S&M arrangement."

"Add to the arrangement?" She sounded fearful.

Finally, Derek gave in to the urge and allowed himself a chuckle. "You know," he told her, eyes sparkling mischievously, "this talk will be over a lot faster if you stop repeating everything I say."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Sorry," she grunted hastily.

"Now," Derek continued gallantly. "Like, I said, I'd like to add to this arrangement. Sex and mockery is great, and I understand that it gives us time to work through things, but…I'd like to propose that we embellish it a little."

Silence.

"With conversation," he clarified when she didn't immediately respond.

"Not to break the rules or anything," Meredith retorted sarcastically, "but…conversation?"

"Yes," Derek nodded, trying in vain to hide his smile. "Conversation. You know…the thing where two people talk to each other."

"About what?" Meredith muttered doubtfully.

"Anything," Derek shrugged. "Everything. Sex. Surgeries. Fake sisters. Unwanted landmates. The moments of our lives."

Meredith arched an eyebrow skeptically. "You know you sound like a bad soap opera, right?"

He rolled his eyes skyward and nudged her playfully. "Seriously, Mer. I want us to start talking to each other again. I miss that."

"The way I remember it, we never really did very much talking," Meredith pointed out.

"We flirted," Derek countered. "That's talking."

"That's foreplay," Meredith volleyed dryly.

"And I'm not complaining about the foreplay," Derek replied with a small smirk. "More foreplay, I say. I just...remember when I said that I wanted you to know me?"

Meredith sucked in a deep, exasperated breath and nodded.

"I still want that," Derek all but whispered. "I want to know you, too. I want you to be the girl I take out for drinks and conversation."

"You want to date," Meredith leveled with a warning glint in her eyes.

Derek knew that look. That look meant resistance. That look meant that she was getting ready to pick up and run.

"I want sex and mockery," he returned firmly. "I just want conversation when the sex and mockery is done."

She continued to look skeptical. He sucked in a breath.

"Look…think of it as a graduation. We're going from 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' to 'wham, bam, thanks and…by the way, how was your day?'."

The skeptical façade cracked when she started to giggle, and he knew he'd done something right.

"You want us to talk after sex?" she repeated in amused incredulity.

"Not after sex," he grinned. "Between rounds. We both know I'm unstoppable."

Her giggle became a full-out laugh. "You want to talk after sex! Next thing I know, you're going to want to cuddle or something."

"Hey!" he cried in mock protest. "Cuddling is fun!"

She rolled her eyes, but the smile remained firmly intact, and he knew he'd achieved a small victory.

"You are _such _a woman."

"Careful, Grey," he warned. "I have no qualms about taking you into the trailer and debating the merits of that statement…naked."

"You're instigating sex," she murmured, eyes twinkling.

"It's only fair!" he argued delightedly. "You instigated mockery!"

"You," she chuckled, "are incorrigible."

"Un_stop_pable," Derek corrected with a wry grin.

"Whatever," Meredith laughed. "Shut up."

"Now you're telling me to shut up? Abuse!"

"Seriously, Derek," she grinned. "Get in the trailer and take your clothes off."

"Gladly," he agreed, "but first…"

He trailed off and grabbed both side of her face, kissing her forcefully. He massaged her lips with the longing he'd felt all evening, and she responded in kind, briefly brushing her tongue with his. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless.

And then, in a flash, she was gone, and he was left staring incredulously at his massive front lawn.

"Meredith?" he called, turning slowly to face the trailer's open door. "What…?"

"Last one with clothes on has to instigate conversation!" she hollered gleefully.

She said it with such mirth that anyone else would've mistaken it as another joke, another line in the endless script of banter, but he knew what a big step she was offering to make.

His grin broadened exponentially as he slid his sweater over his head and slammed the trailer door. "You're on."


	2. Sleepless in Seattle

**Author's Note:** **So "Step by Step" was going to be a oneshot, but then the awesome reviews happened, and I felt the inexplicable urge to reunite Derek and Cristina in awkward conversation. Now, I'm thinking it might consist of three parts. Maybe more, depending on what the characters have to say about it. Thoughts? **

**SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE**

Derek Shepherd had come to a conclusion. Here, now, staring at the ceiling and absently stroking the tiny figure curled up against him, he'd come to a conclusion.

Sex and mockery was good.

He hadn't initially felt that way. Initially, he'd done the he-man thing and been frustrated by the lack of instant gratification. Because, really, the initial introduction of sex and mockery had meant that he didn't get the relationship. That she didn't want to give him the relationship.

He'd been hurt, and frustrated, and reluctant. He hadn't wanted to settle for anything less than what he felt he deserved. He'd been going for the gold with the infamous locker room speech, and he'd gotten the consolation prize instead, so he'd made a few mistakes and gone on a date in the spirit of licking his wounds.

Going on a date had been a bad idea, but he wasn't entirely sorry he'd done it. Going on a date had inspired him to accept sex and mockery. Going on a date had inspired him to add conversation to sex and mockery. And Derek really, really liked conversation.

Yesterday, conversation had inspired a small, but important discussion about the half sister. Today, conversation had inspired an equally brief discussion of his dead father. It had been a fairly morbid conclusion to their amazing on-call room sex, but his impromptu confession that he missed his dad had inspired Meredith to lean forward and kiss him gently on the jaw, and that attempt at consolation had made him feel a lot less alone.

Of course, he hadn't really started to _love_ conversation until this evening, when "conversation" had become, "Derek, it's really late. Why don't you just stay here tonight?"

So there he was, staring at Meredith's ceiling, rubbing his fingers up and down her left tricep and smiling into the dark.

Sex and mockery was good, but sex, mockery, and conversation was amazing.

Of course, sex, mockery, and conversation meant that he hadn't planned on staying over. Sex, mockery, and conversation meant that he was content and comfortable and not lonely for the first time in ages—but he still couldn't sleep. Because sex, mockery, and conversation meant that Derek had agreed to spend the night without earplugs. And the euphoria inspired by sex, mockery, and conversation had meant that this thought hadn't occurred to him until his not-girlfriend was in full freight-train form.

He stifled the chuckle that threatened to escape as she choked on a snore and snuggled closer to him.

He really, really didn't want to get out of Meredith's bed. Not after it had taken her so long to invite him into it. Unfortunately, he had an early surgery scheduled, and he needed enough sleep to be functional. He didn't have his earplugs, but he was hoping against hope that a strong dose of Benadryl would cause enough of a stupor to make him blissfully unaware of Meredith's lung capacity.

He knew the Benadryl was downstairs in the medicine cabinet. He was just having trouble summoning the strength to leave her side long enough to retrieve it.

_Come on, Shepherd. You'll be gone for five minutes, tops. She's dead asleep. You'll be back in bed before she even knows you left._

At long last, the need to do his job well outweighed the fear that she'd wake up and deny him further access. With a snail's speed, he disentangled his limbs and hoisted himself off the bed and into a standing position. It took him the allotted five minutes just to reach the foot of the stairs. He heaved a sigh and padded towards the kitchen, his bare feet slapping quietly against the hardwood floors.

To his surprise, the kitchen light was already on. He glanced down at his watch in confusion.

_2:00 AM. Which intern—no, resident—could possibly be up at this hour?_

He silently hoped it was Alex Karev. Karev was far less likely to rope him into a coherent conversation.

He turned into the kitchen and groaned inwardly when he saw Cristina Yang in sweats, slumped over a steaming mug on the counter.

"Dr. Yang," he mumbled lowly in greeting, trudging deliberately towards the medicine cabinet.

"Shepherd," she returned quietly. Her tone was noticeably absent of its usual edge.

He told himself firmly that he didn't care. One look in her direction, however, and his brow was furrowing of its own accord. He gave a cursory glance at her mug and decided to make lighthearted conversation.

"Warm milk?" he remarked with a smirk.

She shrugged, but her eyes didn't move from the counter. "Couldn't sleep," she replied noncommittally. "According to wives' tales, this is supposed to help."

He retrieved the Benadryl with a small, self-satisfied smile and moved to pour himself a glass of water. The pill slid easily down, and he turned back to face her, leaning against the counter and resigning himself to another few moments of unexpected company.

"You know," he commented wryly, "it also helps to sleep in your own bed."

She snorted indignantly, but she still refused to meet his eyes. "You're one to talk," she shot back.

It was a retort typical of Cristina, but the absence of malice made Derek deeply uncomfortable.

Despite the fact that she was Meredith's "person"—or, perhaps, because of it—Derek had never been on good terms with Cristina Yang. Ever since he'd given Meredith the opportunity to scrub in on Katie Bryce's surgery, Dr. Yang had looked at him with either disgust, indifference, or a combination thereof, and the frank, condescending, accusatory tone she took with him reminded him eerily of Miranda Bailey. Eventually, he'd just come to accept that, regardless of how hard he tried, she would never like or respect him. He didn't like it, but he'd learned to live with it.

Derek had never been on good terms with Cristina, but he knew her well enough to know when something was wrong, and he couldn't, in good conscience, leave the kitchen while Cristina was still staring forlornly at the spider burners.

"Look," he began tentatively, gripping the countertop in something that felt a lot like fear, "I know we're not really _friends _or anything, but…" His apprehension faded, and he peered at her with obvious concern. "Are you okay?"

She gave him a "smile" in which nothing but the outermost corners of her mouth moved. "Fine."

His frown deepened. "Are you sure? I can go get Meredith…"

She leaned forward and heaved a sigh, and Derek was almost positive that he saw something break inside of her.

"Don't," she said quietly. "I'm not... It's…" She trailed off for a moment before standing up straighter and fixing him with a determined, blank gaze. "I come here sometimes, when I can't sleep."

He cocked his head gently to the side and smiled softly at her. "Me too," he confessed with a chuckle.

She pursed her lips and stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. He began to wonder if he'd said the wrong thing. Then her gaze returned to the spider burners, and her forehead wrinkled in distaste.

"Look, we're not friends," she said sternly into the milk. "You have absolutely no obligation to stay down here and psychoanalyze me. I'm fine. I'm just tired. We're all tired. I don't need you to baby-sit me while I drink my milk. I'm not four."

He nodded slowly, and his expression grew empathetic. Her rigid posture, her independence, her stubborn insistence that she was fine, her prickly demeanor in the midst of emotional turmoil…it all reminded him very much of Meredith. Before, he'd always seen Cristina Yang as something of a machine, but now she seemed almost vulnerable.

"I know," he told her softly. He poured himself another glass of water and hopped up on the counter, but his gaze never wavered.

Cristina began tracing the rim of her mug delicately with her index finger. For a moment, they sat in silence, and the tension hung thickly in the air.

"You know," Derek said finally, "when Meredith broke things off, after the…your, um…" He coughed, suddenly unsure of what to call Cristina's botched nuptials. "Wedding" suddenly seemed very inappropriate.

"Disastrous not-wedding?" Cristina supplied with a bitter chuckle.

Derek's cheeks flushed shamefully. "Yeah," he agreed quietly, smiling nervously at the linoleum. "When she broke things off after the not-wedding, I went almost a week without sleep." He shook his head incredulously at the memory. "I tried to tell myself it was sporadic insomnia, or an abundance of adrenaline, or…anything, really…but the truth was that I didn't really know how to sleep without her."

Silence.

Derek shifted uncomfortably against the cabinets. He wasn't sure he'd ever actually admitted any of that out loud before. It made him feel almost naked. And Cristina gave no indication that she'd actually heard him.

Suddenly, baring his soul to the hospital employee who hated him most seemed like a really terrible idea.

Cristina cleared her throat softly, breaking the silence and sending Derek into a mental tailspin. _Oh, God, she's going to tell me off. Or, worse, she's going to laugh at me for being pathetic._

"I trashed Burke's apartment."

Derek glanced up in surprise, and Cristina let out a small, strangled sound that could've been a laugh.

"He used to keep it seriously clean. Immaculately clean. He has all of these steel kitchen appliances and all of this furniture from Ikea with right angles and crap, and he organized his books using the freaking Dewey decimal system." She shook her head incredulously. "There was never a speck of dust anywhere. He could've performed aortic valve replacements on his coffee table."

Derek winced slightly at the thought of Preston Burke cracking someone's chest open in his living room.

"He used to clean up after me. Then I felt bad about it, so I started folding my clothes and throwing away my trash and putting food back in the cabinets." She snorted. "But then he left, so…I trashed the place."

She glanced up and shot him something very close to an impish smile.

He smirked and shrugged. "He deserves it."

"He doesn't know," Cristina retorted ironically. She glanced back down at her mug for a moment, and re-assumed the sardonic expression to which Derek was accustomed, tilting her head curiously in his direction.

"I let his mother shave my eyebrows," she informed him, matter-of-factly, "and he left me at the altar anyway."

Derek's eyebrows met just above the bridge of his nose, and his lips parted slightly as he tried to figure out what to say to the broken woman in front of him.

Cristina shook her head disgustedly. "Look," she snapped at the stove top, "I know you like to give her shit for being dark and twisty or whatever, but the truth is that you've fucked her over a lot in the past year and a half, and she stuck around anyway." When her chocolate brown eyes met Derek's indigo orbs again, her features were pinched in a glare. "She'd shave a hell of a lot more than her eyebrows for you, Shepherd."

He nodded slowly, fearfully. "I know."

Cristina's eyes blazed threateningly. "Don't _ever_ make her miss you."

He gulped, and Cristina's expression softened as she went back to staring at the mug of milk in her hands.

"Because she needs her sleep," she continued quietly, but firmly. "And…well…missing people sucks."

Derek smiled softly and dropped his gaze to the floor in a rare moment of modesty. While Cristina wrapped her lithe fingers around the cold mug, Derek drained his water and dropped the glass into the sink with a clatter.

"Cristina?"

She glanced up expectantly, and he smiled sadly.

"For what it's worth…I hope he develops chronic insomnia."

The left corner of her mouth curled in an appreciative smirk. "Thanks." Unfortunately, the heartfelt moment dissipated almost immediately, and her sour expression returned. "But Shepherd…if you breathe a word of this to _anyone, ever, _I'll tell them you were having Benadryl-induced hallucinations. And if you even _think _about hugging me, I'll tell them that you tried to grope me in my sleep."

He let loose with a loud, relieved laugh. "I would expect nothing less, Dr. Yang."

She smirked into the spider burners, and he slid off the counter and began the slow trek back to Meredith's room. Just as he was about to exit the kitchen, her voice stopped him.

"They're in her bathroom."

Derek turned around in surprise, confusion registering clearly on his tired, ragged features. "What?"

"Your earplugs," she clarified with a smirk. "They're in her bathroom. She keeps them on the top shelf of that cabinet behind the mirror. You should have a toothbrush and some toothpaste up there, too." When he didn't immediately respond, she crooked an eyebrow expectantly. "That's why you came down here, right? The snoring?"

His face broke into an impressed smile. "Yes," he replied, his voice conveying his surprise.

She nodded knowingly and swirled a finger in her milk.

"Listen," Derek began hurriedly, "th-thanks…well…thanks for…"

Cristina quirked an eyebrow in condescending amusement, and he let out the breath he'd been holding and allowed his features to relax into the smile that was tugging at his temples.

"Thanks for being there for her when I wasn't," he said finally, his face a mask of gratitude.

Cristina nodded curtly, but when she glanced back down at her milk, he could see her smile.

"You're welcome."

He nodded slowly, shot her another patented McDreamy smile, and turned back towards the doorframe.

"Shepherd…"

Derek glanced back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised expectantly, and Cristina wrinkled her nose.

"We might've had a moment, or whatever, but…this doesn't mean I like you. We're still not friends."

Her voice was cold and conclusive, but the corner of her mouth twitched in a telltale smirk, and he laughed.

"You say that now…" he murmured with a wink.

The steps were creaking under his weight before she could formulate a response. Later, when the milk had chilled, another set of snores began to echo through the house, and Cristina finally emptied her mug and made her way over to the couch. Then, for the first time in a week, she slept.


	3. Sexual Healing

**Author's Note****: Thank you so much for the continued love in review form! You guys are all kinds of awesome, and the feedback is definitely what keeps me going. That said, I'm sorry for the delay in getting this out. Suffice it to say that this week's episode frustrated me to a point a little bit south of inspiration. (sigh) Here's to hoping that the latest near-death experience (you know, the one that is surely pending) eliminates Rose as a threat to the almost-happy couple.**

**SEXUAL HEALING**

Derek awoke to Meredith's fingers in his hair. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the sunlight that was beginning to pour through the blinds.

"What time is it?" he mumbled groggily, rubbing a hand over his stubble-ridden cheeks.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Meredith's lips moving without sound and suddenly remembered his earplugs. As he retrieved the little bits of wax and placed them gently on the bedside table, he could feel her eyes on him.

"You found the earplugs."

Derek knew immediately that the comment was a loaded question in disguise.

"I don't know if I should feel insulted, violated, or grateful that you got a good night's sleep," she continued wryly.

Derek began flexing various muscles in an attempt to rid himself of sleep. "Definitely C," he grunted, working through a particularly belligerent kink in his left calf muscle.

Meredith chuckled unconvincingly. "Seriously? Derek, this means that my snoring was bad enough to send you snooping into the bathroom cabinets."

He cast an indignant frown in her direction. "I don't snoop."

"No?" Meredith volleyed teasingly. "Then how did you find the earplugs?"

Derek exhaled and pulled her towards him, enjoying the familiar feeling of her skin on his. He inhaled gently, and lavender filled his senses, tickling his nose and curling the corners of his mouth.

"Mmm," he murmured contentedly.

"Derek. Seriously."

He laughed and gave her an affectionate squeeze.

"You were right," he told her with a smile. When her pretty brow furrowed in confusion, his grin broadened. "About Cristina being tolerable, I mean. You were right."

A slow, satisfied smirk made its way across Meredith's pointed features.

"I was right," she repeated, wiggling her eyebrows delightedly.

"You were right," he agreed, nuzzling her neck.

He was expecting her to rub it in, to tease him and cajole him and annoy him in her cute little Meredith way. He hadn't expected her to extract herself from their cozy little cocoon and saunter into the bathroom—completely, beautifully naked.

Her hips swayed ever so gently as she passed the doorframe, and he knew that she could feel his eyes on her. She was almost totally concealed within the confines of the master bathroom when she chose to acknowledge him again.

"Well," she began with a slight smirk, "we're even, then, because you were right, too." She paused deliciously and winked at him. "About the conversation, I mean."

The concession was a big thing, and he knew that, but her seemingly casual delivery was punctuated by the dull roar that signified the start of a shower, and a shower meant that wet, naked Meredith was only a few steps away.

Derek had a thing for wet, naked Meredith.

With a groan that expressed lust and lethargy simultaneously, Derek pushed himself into a standing position and followed the trail of steam to the shower, where his not-girlfriend was rubbing herself erotically with a soap-lathered loofah. With a sleepy smirk, he sidled up behind her and began slowly, methodically kissing his way from her shoulder to the nape of her neck.

She tilted her head immediately to give him better access.

"Don't you have to be in surgery soon?"

"Mmm," he murmured noncommittally, inhaling the strong scent of her shampoo.

"Derek!" Meredith reprimanded, laughing as his eyelashes tickled her shoulder. "Do you even have time for a shower?"

His chuckle was low and throaty, and it vibrated deliciously against the hollow of her neck.

"The question," he amended lowly, pausing to suck on the soft space below her earlobe, "is whether or not _we _have time for a shower." He bit her earlobe lightly, and everything around her began to vibrate.

"And the answer," Derek continued, his voice guttural, "is yes."

Meredith gasped as his tongue began tugging at the flesh above her collarbone. His hands found the small of her back, and gasps became moans. Her lips and teeth navigated the firm flesh of his pectorals as moans became screams. Then they closed their eyes simultaneously, and something exploded in the newfound darkness.

Moments later, the water was growing cold, and he was pulling a towel around them. Struck with a sudden tenderness, Meredith reached out, brushed his wet hair away from his forehead, and smiled shyly into his glittering eyes.

Their lips met gently and graciously. When they finally parted for breath, Meredith inhaled sharply, and a contented sigh escaped.

Derek's eyes opened at the soft sound and, for a moment, he forgot that he was going to be late.

He was beginning to realize that his world stopped every time he looked at her. This time, though, he noticed more than the way her hair caught the light. He noticed the way her body seemed to surrender to him. He noticed the way her arms were balanced precariously on his shoulders, loosely looping his neck. He noticed that she was smiling with her eyes closed and breathing slowly and evenly with him.

She was happy, and it left him dumbstruck.

"_Don't _ever _make her miss you."_

As Cristina's orders echoed in his ears, he pulled Meredith's petite frame more tightly to him and rested his chin in the crook of her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back almost immediately, her brow furrowing in confusion. "You're sorry?" she repeated incredulously.

His brow furrowed, and she rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, Derek, we've been late before. For really awful reasons, too. Amazing sex? That's a good reason to be late. Amazing sex in the shower? Even better reason to be late. Maybe even productive. We washed, and we rinsed, and…no. You don't get to apologize for amazing sex in the shower."

"What?" He chuckled lightly and tucked a lock of honey blonde hair behind her ear. "Mer…I'm not apologizing for the, um, 'amazing sex in the shower,'" he quoted, his eyes dancing amusedly. "I'm just…" His troubled look returned, and Meredith's eyes widened fearfully as she watched Derek struggle for words.

_Oh, God. Oh God oh God. He's going to leave. There's too much sex and not enough conversation, and he's going to leave. _

She had just opened her mouth to begin rambling about the things she would probably be doing that day when Derek pursed his lips meaningfully and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry I made you miss me," he finished sincerely, in the soft voice he reserved for their important conversations.

Meredith's eyes narrowed apprehensively. She was going to feign confusion. She was going to say something akin to "nonsense" and assure him that he'd never "made her miss him or whatever." Then green met blue, and her petty words dissolved in the ocean of guilt that swam in his eyes.

"It's okay," she replied softly. Her eyes darted briefly away, and she bit her lip apprehensively before glancing back up at him with hooded eyes. "Just, you know…don't do it again."

She chanced a shy, uncertain smile in his direction, and his whole body seemed to relax with relief.

"I couldn't," he told her honestly. Something mischievous tugged at his smile, and his eyes sparkled. "I mean, I'd hate to miss out on more amazing sex in the shower."

Meredith laughed.

"Seriously," Derek insisted, grinning. "I'm all for amazing sex in the shower. Or anywhere, really."

"The sex is good," Meredith agreed with a chuckle.

"Good?" he repeated in disbelief. He dipped his chin pointedly. "The sex is _great_," he corrected with mock seriousness.

Meredith rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Fine, the sex is _great._ Plus, you know…" She trailed off, biting her lower lip shyly, "the conversation isn't bad either."

Derek's smile softened at the hope in her eyes. "No, it's not," he murmured. "Not bad at all."

Hours later, Meredith sat languidly on a gurney in the tunnel, surrounded by post-op notes and unfinished charts. As expected, the amazing sex in the shower had made her late for rounds, and Bailey had determined that an entire thirty-six hours of paperwork would make for a satisfactory punishment.

Normally, the prospect of a lab-laden shift would have incited a combination of annoyance and anger to last throughout the allocated time period. Today, however, the mountains of unfinished paperwork did nothing to faze her. She scribbled notes steadily, looping her letters in a pretty, legible cursive and whistling to herself while she worked.

She was knee-deep in busy work, but she was still happy. Not even Bailey's lecture about responsibility had been able to put a damper on her good mood.

In fact, Meredith was beginning to wonder if amazing sex in the shower should become a daily ritual when a snort of disdain interrupted her shrill medley of Disney classics.

"You do realize you're whistling the theme song from _Pocahontas, _right?"

Meredith's puckered lips relaxed into a smirk when she saw Alex strutting towards her, arms folded expectantly.

"I'm happy," she replied with a hint of defiance.

"Seriously?" he retorted doubtfully, hopping up to sit beside her as he retrieved a saran-wrapped sandwich from his lab coat.

"Seriously," Meredith affirmed with a grin. "Life is good."

"Life is good, or Shepherd is good?"

Meredith wiggled her eyebrows wickedly in Alex's direction. "Oh, you know…a little of column A, a little of column B…"

Alex rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Man, I'm going to kick his ass. The one time I need you to be bitter and miserable, he goes and turns you in Mary fucking Poppins."

Meredith's smile faded into a concerned frown, and she set down the form she'd been completing and sat up a bit straighter so she could give her friend a decent once-over. "Why do you need me to be bitter and miserable?"

"You didn't hear?" he shot back with a poor excuse for a smirk. "Misery loves company."

"Sure," Meredith agreed carefully, "but dark and twisty folks like us generally prefer to hide their pain. We're better when we're playing martyr and living in silent torment or whatever."

Alex chuckled hollowly.

For a moment, they sat in silence. Alex studied the floor tiles intently, his spine curling in defeat as he took the occasional bite of his sandwich, and Meredith studied Alex. Then he glanced back up with the cocky, disdainful expression she'd come to know, and she sucked in an expectant breath.

"You were right about your sister," he said finally, though his words were more of an accusation than an admission. "She's a total nut job."

Meredith arched a skeptical eyebrow. "She's chatty," she conceded slowly, "but I wouldn't call her a nut job."

Alex leveled her with a breadbox look. "Now you're defending her? Seriously? I thought you hated Lexie."

Meredith flinched and followed Alex's gaze to the wall. For a moment, she was sure that the even columns of brick and mortar were mocking her.

"I don't hate Lexie," she muttered finally. "I just hate the idea of Lexie."

"Yeah, well, I hate Lexie," Alex grumbled. "She's wide-eyed and green and…really fucking melodramatic."

Meredith bit back the laugh that threatened to spill forth. "I'm melodramatic," she pointed out with a wry smile, "and you put up with me."

"Melodramatic?" Alex repeated dryly. "Grey, your mother died. Your fake mother died. Your father's an asshole without the balls to stick around. You fell in love with a guy who turned out to be married, and then you spent a year watching him play house with his drop-dead-gorgeous wife. In the span of a year, you've almost died three times." He paused to shake his head. "So you whine a little. We all whine a little. You're entitled."

"Lexie lost her mother," Meredith reminded him. "Maybe she's entitled."

"I lost my mother and my father, and my stepfather…although that last one was definitely more my fault than karma's," Alex admitted with a grunt. "You don't hear me freaking out about it."

"No, but you did mess up the thing with Izzie because of it."

"Yeah, well…you slept with George," Alex snapped in retaliation.

Meredith laughed. Loudly. Then, startled by her own amusement, she covered her mouth with her hand and tried to silence the giggles that were flying out like hiccups. "I'm sorry," she apologized in between chuckles. "It's not funny."

"Not for O'Malley, anyway," Alex muttered with a wicked smirk. "He only gets laid when someone goes bat-shit crazy."

"You're talking about Izzie," Meredith deadpanned expectantly.

"And Torres," Alex insisted. He dipped his chin pointedly and leaned back against the window. "I mean, look at her. You can't tell me that chick isn't missing a sanity chip somewhere. Plus, let's face it…she's kind of a bitch."

Meredith rolled her eyes, but her smile was still firmly in place. "Alex…" She mirrored his pointed expression, folding her arms to up the intimidation factor. "We were talking about Lexie."

"Nothing more to say," he shrugged. "She's a nut job."

"And this makes you bitter and miserable because…?"

"Because _all_ the single chicks in this hospital are nut jobs," Alex grumbled. "And every time I try to do something nice for one of them, it comes back and bites me in the ass!"

"And you'd rather have them come back and bite you in the ass?" Meredith teased.

"Meredith," Alex growled. Actually _growled._

She sobered quickly. "Okay. Sorry. Was Lexie mad because you took her home the other night?"

Alex's features contorted in reluctance. "Sort of."

Meredith's eyebrows rose inquisitively. "Sort of?"

Alex slammed an open palm against the gurney on which he was precariously perched. "See, this is what pisses me off! Normally, I'd just rant, and you'd say something at least _kind of_ helpful, and I'd go and reluctantly fix whatever stupid chick problem she's having." He rolled his eyes again and ran a hand over his head in a gesture that reminded her slightly of Derek.

"But no," he continued, his tone low and dry. "She wants me to keep secrets. _Secrets_," he repeated incredulously, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Like we're all in fucking junior high or something."

"Secrets," Meredith repeated, allowing a tiny chuckle of disbelief and disdain to escape. "Seriously?"

"That's all I'm saying," Alex grunted. "She's a nut job."

"Alex…"

"Meredith…" he mimicked.

She tried in vain to suppress a knowing smile. "You don't really want me to hate her with you."

His eyes narrowed at her. "No, really? I do."

"Alex," she admonished, effectively ending any further denials. He rolled his eyes and looked away, and Meredith heaved a sigh.

"I don't like her or anything," Alex insisted suddenly, his voice tight. "I've just been where she is, and I know how much it sucks, and I know she'd probably be a lot less melo-_fuckin'_-dramatic if she'd let me help her."

"So help her," Meredith offered quietly. Alex's condescending expression returned.

"I tried that," he snapped. "She doesn't want my help. She just wants me to keep her secrets and pretend that nothing's wrong."

Meredith gave him a sideways smirk. "Well…it certainly says something that you're actually honoring her wishes," she remarked pointedly.

"I'm not," he scowled.

Meredith's pager went off, the shrill beep echoing painfully along the tunnels. With a frustrated sigh, she unclipped the device from her waistband and squinted at the small screen. He frustration dissipated immediately.

_Derek._

She re-fastened the pager to her side with a satisfied smile and hopped off the gurney, directing her attention back to Alex long enough to tie up loose ends.

"You are," she leveled seriously. "Look, I can't give you any specific advice if you don't tell me what's going on, but that might be okay, because I'm not sure you want to take advice from a fellow member of the Dark & Twisty club." He smirked in acknowledgment, and Meredith's grin broadened.

"I can, however, tell you this: girls like charming. If you want her to not be mad at you anymore, just go back to being charming. Do whatever you did in the beginning that drove Izzie crazy. If Lexie's as wide-eyed and whatever as you think she is, she'll fall for it, and you can have sex across the hall again." Her smile dimmed to something more genuine as she tilted her head and sighed. "If you really want to help her, though, you've got a decision to make. Either you do what she wants you to do and keep her secrets, or you do whatever you think you should be doing to help her."

Alex arched an expectant eyebrow. "And if helping her means pissing her off and spilling her secrets?"

Meredith gave a small shrug. "Like I said…decision. You have to figure out what's more important."

Alex dropped his gaze to the floor and nodded, slowly. After a brief moment of contemplation, he glanced back up and nodded in the direction of Meredith's pager. "You off to check on a patient?"

Meredith tossed a wicked grin over her shoulder. "Not exactly. I'm off to, um…cement _my_ decision."

Alex rolled his eyes knowingly. "You're off to get laid."

Meredith winked at him as she disappeared behind the double doors. "Same thing."

He shook his head in amusement, finished his sandwich, and wandered off in the opposite direction.


	4. More Than Something Pretty

**Author's Note: You guys are seriously amazing. All of the reviews have meant SO much to me. It really, really makes me happy to know that you guys are enjoying this story. It will definitely carry on for longer than initially planned, and I really hope you stick around to see it through. When writing starts to suck, your comments keep me going, and…well, you guys rock. Thank you, thank you, thank you. **

**MORE THAN SOMETHING PRETTY**

The kiss was soft and slow and gentle, a mark of comfort and contentment in the aftermath of yet another explosive orgasm. As they pulled away for breath, he ran his hand through her hair and felt the corners of his mouth curl as he acknowledged for the thousandth time that day exactly how much he loved her.

Of course, four-letter words like "love" were a far cry from the easygoing arrangement of sex, mockery, and conversation, so he kept the declaration to himself.

"Well," he began instead, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "I'd say we have to stop meeting like this, but that'd be a lie."

"Not to mention hypocritical," Meredith murmured, "seeing as you're the one who incites most of these meetings."

"Mmm," he mused contentedly. "Are you calling me horny?"

Her eyes opened lazily, and she gifted him with a seductive smirk. "Maybe."

"You're definitely calling me horny." Derek didn't even attempt to keep his smile at bay. "You know, just a few days ago, you were calling me a woman."

Meredith chuckled lowly. "Maybe you're a horny woman."

His eyebrows wiggled dangerously. "Maybe _you're _a horny woman."

Meredith rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, but the smile remained. "Whatever. You paged me. I think that makes _you_ the horny one in this relationship."

"Ah," he volleyed, "but I also proposed the addition of conversation. So, clearly, there's more to me than primal urges and…" He trailed off and kissed her, unable to ignore the invitation of her swollen lower lip any longer. "Screaming orgasms," he finished breathlessly, his eyes closed.

Meredith inhaled slowly, enjoying the mixture of cologne and something else natural and forbidden that was so inexplicably Derek.

"So, basically," she teased, "you're a well-rounded horny woman."

"Mmm." He leaned forward and kissed her again, trying desperately to breathe her in as he buried a hand in her hair. "That's all I'm saying."

The next kiss was postponed by the giggle with which he was so plainly taken and, despite his desire to be physically closer, he couldn't help but laugh with her. They'd spent months being seriously, forlorn, and melodramatic. It felt good to laugh.

"You know," she began, her eyes glittering amusedly in the lamplight, "I think I like you as a horny woman."

"That," he replied, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, "is very good news for me."

"Oh?" Meredith arched an eyebrow seductively.

"Yes," he affirmed. He reached out and ran his hand along her shoulder and down her arm, watching her inhale sharply as the friction warmed her skin. "See, I plan on inciting a lot more of these meetings."

Meredith shook her head in amusement and let out a small, disbelieving chuckle. "You realize you have a job to do, right? _We_ have jobs to do. That's why we're here. In the hospital, I mean…not in the on-call room. On-call rooms are for sleeping. Tired sleeping, not sexy sleeping…" She trailed off and winced. She'd had a point. At least, she was pretty sure she'd had a point. Points were difficult to remember when Derek's toned abdomen was trembling against her. _He's laughing. I'm trying to make a point, and he's laughing._

She heaved a sigh and swallowed forcefully. "Anyway…we're supposed to be doing our jobs."

"True," he agreed with a devilish grin. "But you want to know a secret?"

She emitted another incredulous chuckle and tried to ignore how much it sounded like a snort. _Really sexy, Meredith. _"Sure."

He leaned forward and nipped her earlobe lightly before his voice—a low, throaty whisper—found her ear. "I like doing you more."

Meredith rolled her eyes again, amused and exasperated all at once. His hair was tickling the base of her neck, so she ducked away and gave him a shove that wasn't entirely playful. "That's not exactly a secret," she returned wryly.

"No?"

She dipped her chin pointedly, counting his boyish smirk of self-satisfaction. "No."

"Damn. And I was trying so hard to hide it…" He trailed off for effect, but his brow furrowed in concern when he noticed the way her smirk seemed to tighten around the edges. Immediately, his mind reeled, replaying the last few minutes of conversation in a vain search for anything that would have offended her.

Things were better, and they were talking, but he knew all too well that this thing between them was still fragile.

"Hey," he entreated softly, reaching out a hand to touch her again, "are you okay?"

Meredith inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed over her cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She could feel her heart thumping angrily against her ribcage as she fought to keep the smirk on her face. _Don't do this. Don't complicate things. Don't get upset over nothing. YOU wanted sex and mockery. He's just obliging._

Still, though, a tiny part of her missed the Derek that had sat in the cold outside the trailer and tentatively insisted on conversation. Sex and mockery had been her idea, she knew, but after the wonderful morning—and, of course, the amazing sex in the shower—all she really wanted was to talk to him.

He'd apologized, and a tiny part of her was still reeling from it. She hadn't known how badly she'd needed to hear the words until he'd said them. Now that he had, though, she wanted to know why. What had prompted it? _How did he know? And if he knew, why didn't he say anything sooner? Why hasn't he said anything else?_

She took a deep breath and shoved her mounting paranoia deep down inside.

"I'm fine," she assured him, mustering a small smile.

His frown deepened. He tilted his head, presumably to get a better look at her, and she could feel the skepticism radiating off of him in waves.

"Really," she continued, resolve making her voice stronger. "I'm fine."

His breath was tentative. "You're sure?"

"Positive," she smiled, releasing her tension on an exhale. In a gesture of comfort, she reached out a hand and wound her fingers through his. "Tell me about your morning."

Her thumb began tracing small circles over the back of his hand, and the simplicity of the movement caused him to relax.

"Well…the morning started with a craniotomy. A twelve-year-old boy named Matthew, actually." He glanced over and winked at her. "That was the surgery I was almost late for. Then I rounded on post-op patients, gave two consults, and scrubbed in on an emergency surgery to remove a traveling blood clot in a young woman's spine." His eyes found the ceiling as he recalled the young woman's panic. "Dr. Stevens assisted, actually."

Meredith's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Izzie? I thought she was on Hahn's service?"

Derek shrugged easily and pulled Meredith more tightly to him. "New chief resident, new rules. I'm pretty sure Cristina's with Dr. Hahn today."

"About time," Meredith murmured with a smile. "She was really starting to miss cardio."

"Yeah…" Derek trailed off as his mind's eye presented the vivid image of a lonely, defeated Cristina bent over Meredith's kitchen counter. He expelled a conflicted sigh and forced the memory away. "How was your morning?"

"Boring," Meredith answered truthfully. "I ran labs and filled out paperwork for Bailey."

"Really?"

"Yup!" She leveled him with a wry grin. "I'm supposed to spend the entire day finishing charts. She's punishing me for being late this morning."

Derek's features contorted in sympathy. "Sorry." He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I could talk to her, you know. Request you for my next case."

"And risk pissing her off even more?" Meredith volleyed with a disbelieving laugh. "No thanks. Bailey on warpath is…" She shuddered, unable to come up with an appropriate adjective. "I'll deal."

"You sure?" Derek probed with a small, needling smile, using his shoulder to nudge her gently. "I'm scheduled to remove a tumor from a young man's brain stem in…" He gave a cursory glance at his watch. "A little less than an hour," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "I should, um…probably get dressed."

She immediately tensed, and her eyes darted around the room nervously as she slid away from him.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Me too. I have…stuff. Paperwork."

His brow creased in a frown as she hurriedly tugged her scrub top over her head, effectively hiding her breasts from view. With a tired sigh, he heaved himself into a standing position and reluctantly pulled the soft cotton of his scrub pants over his aching legs. He was sore, but sated. A mere hour with Meredith had left him feeling relaxed and slightly love-drunk.

He hated that he hadn't had the same effect on her.

_But maybe…maybe I did_, he mused silently as he searched for his lab coat.After all, she'd been flirting. She had teased him and kissed him and played with his hair, all while smirking in that delicious, seductive way she had. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that she hadn't become distant and flighty until the reality of his schedule had come crashing into their blissful cocoon.

He watched her fish under the bed for her pager with a barely-concealed smile and decided to try and fix whatever it was that he'd unknowingly shattered with his mention of surgery.

"I'm going to miss you in the OR," he remarked, keeping his tone light and casual. When she glanced up in surprise, he summoned his best McDreamy smile, and the tension in her face seemed to dissipate immediately.

Her seductive smirk returned, and he fought the urge to cheer triumphantly.

"You mean you're going to miss making naughty eyes at me across the table," she corrected, her eyebrow arched in a way that dared him to contradict her.

"That too, a little," he admitted with a chuckle, "but mainly I'm just going to miss you."

He was expecting a witty retort, something that would resurrect the playful mood. He wasn't expecting the silence that seemed to ricochet painfully off the four white walls of the on-call room.

It wasn't an angry silence. Her shoulders were relaxed as she tied the laces of her cross-trainers, and she wasn't moving in the same jerky fashion that usually meant trouble. Still, the silence made him uncomfortable.

At long last, she straightened, brushed herself off, and inclined her head gently towards him.

"Can I ask you a question?" she entreated hesitantly, her teeth gripping her lower lip. "You know, in the spirit of conversation and all?"

He swallowed forcefully and nodded, his brow furrowed in concern. "Absolutely."

She sucked in a deep breath and glanced nervously at the floor before her hooded gaze rose to meet him. For another brief, excruciating moment, her eyes continued to flit between him and the floor.

His chest tightened painfully when he tried to inhale. "Meredith…"

She exhaled slowly, and her gaze rose to meet him for the last time.

"This morning," she began slowly. "This morning, you said things."

His frown deepened.

"You said things, and you…you apologized. You said you were sorry. For…for…"

"For making you miss me," he supplied breathlessly, almost fearfully.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah." Suddenly, the uncertainty in her eyes was replaced by a look of innocent curiosity, and her brow furrowed accordingly as she studied him. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft with reverent confusion. "Why?"

He could feel her uncertainty coiling in his muscles, knotting them and his stomach all at once. He wanted to answer her—hell, he _needed _to answer her—but he wasn't entirely sure what she was asking.

"Why?" he repeated blankly, his voice low and taut.

"Why did you apologize?" she clarified quietly. She was still studying him intently. "I mean…how did you know?"

He let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. He'd been paralyzed by the fear that she'd ask a question he couldn't answer. "Why?" was so ambiguous. _Why did you hurt me? Why did you leave? Why did you pull away when I needed you most? Why did you go out on a date with that woman after saying all of those wonderful things to me? _They were all questions of which he was deeply afraid. He dreaded having to explain his actions to her. Truth to tell, the motivations behind them were often a mystery to him as well.

_How did you know to apologize? _Well…that was a question he could answer.

"I, um…I spoke to Cristina," he confessed softly, running a hand through his hair.

Meredith's eyes darkened immediately. "You spoke to Cristina?" she repeated in disbelief.

He allowed himself a small, nervous chuckle. "I did."

"I mean…Cristina spoke to you? About me?" Her hands found her hips. "What did she say to you?"

At the familiar line, his eyes danced mischievously. "I suppose you're not going to believe that I did all the talking."

Meredith's lips parted in something between shock and offense. "Mockery," she deadpanned. "Seriously?"

"Ah," Derek countered with a boyish grin, "not just mockery. There was also sex."

Meredith shook her head in amusement. "You know what this means?" she leveled, trying in vain to conceal her smile.

"More sex?" he teased eagerly.

"You wish," Meredith muttered, smirking. "You changed the rules, remember? Now, you _owe _me conversation."

He mock winced. "Damn. Maybe I should rethink the rules again."

Meredith rolled her eyes good-naturedly and playfully shoved him. "Derek!"

"Maybe instate a little less conversation…"

"A little more action, please?" Meredith quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed. "What, are you going to start singing now?"

"No," Derek concluded with a laugh. "I don't sing in public."

"Good," she concluded decisively. "That leaves you plenty of time to tell me when you spoke to Cristina."

He heaved a sigh. "I didn't really speak to Cristina so much as she lectured me," he amended, his smile dimming somewhat.

Meredith's eyes widened slightly in recognition. "You're talking about the other night at the trailer."

"No," Derek admitted, "last night."

"Last night?" she repeated in confusion. Derek nodded slowly.

"Last night," he confirmed. "I couldn't sleep, so I got up to get something to knock me out, and Cristina was in the kitchen."

Meredith's features centralized in concern, and her eyes strayed once more to the floor. "Yeah, she does that. She…well…"

"She misses Burke," Derek finished plainly.

"Yes," she agreed, her surprise evident in her tone. She sounded so impressed that he was almost offended. _How selfish does she think I am?_

Another glance at her expression, and he knew he didn't really want to know the answer. Instead, he managed a small, ironic smile. "Anyway," he continued, "I apologized. To her and to you. Because…well, I know what it's like to miss someone you love."

She dipped her chin skeptically and narrowed her eyes. "You're talking about Addison."

The smile faded in a sea of solemnity. "No."

Meredith's confused expression returned, and Derek heaved a defeated sigh. He paused to retrieve his stethoscope from the pocket of his lab coat before reluctantly returning his gaze to Meredith.

"I was mad, you know," he began quietly, his voice little more than a breath of air. "When you left, after the not-wedding, when you went on the not-honeymoon with Cristina…I was mad. We'd had that conversation in the locker room, and you'd essentially ignored me in favor of getting Cristina down the aisle, and then you just…left." He gave a small shrug, an almost apology for his previous ire. He glanced down at the floor for a moment and, when he looked up, his expression was helplessly apologetic.

"I didn't get it," he admitted sadly. "I thought you were running again. I thought you were running from me again. I thought you were being selfish and purposefully avoiding the issues at hand. I thought…" He dropped his gaze and struggled in vain to find the right words. "I didn't get it," he repeated finally. "After seeing Cristina last night, though…I get it. Now, I get it."

"You do," Meredith repeated, her tone belying her disbelief. He took a few steps toward her and smiled.

"I do." He reached out to lace his fingers through hers and sighed with relief when she didn't pull away.

His eyes glittered in the lamplight, and her heart gave a tiny jump when he inclined his head and smiled softly at her.

"She needed a friend.," he continued, his tone almost reverent, "and you rose to the occasion. You're still rising to the occasion."

Her face felt hot with embarrassment and…something else. Something modest and sheepish. He was looking at her with such adoration, such respect, and yet she found herself fighting the urge to cringe. Because, as much as she wanted to accept his praise, she knew she didn't deserve it. Her motivations hadn't been entirely selfish, but selfishness had definitely been a factor in her decision. And, while she had gone on the not-honeymoon to support Cristina in her time of need, she had also gone to avoid Derek.

Knowing that he'd been angry with her felt good. It felt right, like they were finally on equal footing and maybe—_maybe_—his words weren't as empty as she always saw them to be. Listening to him confess to his anger with such remorse, though…that killed her. One talk with Cristina, and he felt bad for getting justifiably angry. He was looking at her with such admiration, like she was some beautiful, angelic, perfect _thing_, and she hated it.

Hated it.

Now, watching him pay homage to her with his best McDreamy smile, Meredith wondered if Derek knew her at all. She was convinced that he was infatuated not with her, but with some other lofty ideal, some perfect, otherworldly Meredith that she knew she would never, ever be. She felt like he was staring at Meredith the shadow and seeing Meredith the archetype.

She wanted—no, she _needed _him to see Meredith the shadow.

She cleared her throat softly. "I'm not...I'm not rising."

In fact, she felt strangely like she was falling. And falling without the knowledge that Derek would be there to catch her…well…

That sucked.

"You are," he countered gently, reaching up to stroke her chin with the pad of his thumb. "You did." He heaved a sigh, and his brow knitted once more in a deep concern that made her hate herself. "Meredith…even if you were running, even if you did go for selfish reasons…Cristina isn't exactly the most accommodating person on the planet. In fact, she's kind of mean, even on a good day. And that trip…those weren't good days. Talking to her last night was difficult. I can't imagine what that trip must have been like."

The trip had been awful. During the day, Cristina had been surly to the extreme, glaring when silent and snapping when spoken to. Only after a few drinks did she abandon her crusty armor. She'd danced until the alcohol began to interfere with her motor function, and then she'd stumbled back to the hotel room to cry.

Cristina was the most self-assured person Meredith knew. But, in the two weeks they'd been gone, Meredith had lost count of how many times Cristina had fallen apart.

"It was…" She cleared her throat awkwardly. "She needed me."

"I know." There was a hint of pride in his smile. "And you needed her. So you rose."

Her gaze landed somewhere to his left, and her features contorted as she emitted a hollow, bitter chuckle. "It didn't matter. She still lost her happy ending."

Derek inhaled sharply. He'd suspected that there was significance in Meredith's need to get Cristina down the aisle, but his suspicions had never been confirmed—until now.

And, suddenly, he had room to be blatantly honest.

"Meredith."

Green met blue, and he felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

"Not to sound egotistical or judgmental, but…" His lips parted, and he sucked in a deep, apprehensive breath. "I'm not sure Preston Burke was Cristina's happy ending."

_But I could be yours._

"I mean, even when they were together, they weren't always happy."

_Not like us. Not like we are._

"So, maybe…maybe what happened to them was actually better…for them."

_Not for us._

The words unsaid hung heavily in the sudden silence, and Derek cleared his throat to keep from giving them breath. He felt like they were always having two conversations—one on the surface, and one between the lines.

He really, really hoped that she was paying attention to the one between the lines.

Of course, the way his indigo eyes sparkled hopefully—meaningfully—in the dim light of the on-call room was hard for Meredith to ignore. He seemed to understand that, despite the awfulness of the not-honeymoon, she'd spent the entire two weeks hoping against hope that she'd get her happy ending anyway.

The realization was enough to make the skin around her eyes crinkle softly. "Maybe so."

His features fell into a relieved smile, and she found herself thinking that maybe—_maybe_—he was hoping for a happy ending too.


	5. Bad Moon Rising

**Author's Note:**** Sorry it's been awhile! This update took much longer than I expected. It went through a number of drafts and ended up being unnecessarily difficult to write. It sets up a few plotlines, and explores more than just the Meredith-and-Derek's relationship. Anyway…as always, thank you SO much for the feedback, and keep it coming! I appreciate it immensely, and I'd really love to hear what you guys think about this update. Merry Christmas!**

BAD MOON RISING 

Cristina scanned the cafeteria for the second time in as many minutes.

Nothing had changed.

To her left, an anesthesiologist in a pink scrub cap was reading the sports section over a burger. To her right, a small group of doctors from pediatrics were chatting tiredly about some baby that had stopped breathing an hour earlier. There was an old couple with gray hair and wrinkles sitting two tables in front of her, holding hands and sharing a salad. At the table beside them, Meredith's gaggle of interns was having dinner in wrinkled powder-blue scrubs.

None of them were Burke.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of yellow. For a moment, she followed it hopefully, but her scowl returned when she realized that the yellow scrub cap was perched on the head of none other than Sydney Heron, Heal-With-Love M.D.

_Not Burke._

She wasn't even sure why she was looking for him. She knew he wasn't coming back. After the immediate disappearance of his things from the apartment and, later, Mama Burke's unexpected visit, it was clear that Burke had chosen to live under a banner of avoidance larger than Meredith could ever dream of constructing. Most of the time, when she was sitting in her new red apartment with Callie or giving a fellow surgeon shit in the gallery, she hated Burke enough that she was okay with his disappearance. Sometimes, though, the hate faded to a dull ache that reminded her quietly and painfully that she missed him.

She hated missing him.

She hated that he'd turned her into the kind of girl that missed the jackass that left her at the altar.

She really hated that he'd turned her into the kind of girl that spent her weakest moments hoping that the jackass would grow a pair of balls and come back.

The sane Cristina Yang, the Cristina Yang that was scheduled to scrub in with Dr. Hahn in a little less than an hour—that Cristina didn't want Burke back. That Cristina knew that she was better off without a man who had been slowly and methodically turning her into a Stepford wife. Sane Cristina might have even come into the cafeteria to study before surgery. Sane Cristina probably would've gladly cracked open a textbook to review the finer points of aortic aneurysms. After all, Sane Cristina had loved aortic aneurysms more than any man.

Of course, Sane Cristina would never have allowed her eyes to stray from said textbook. And this weak, hopeful, people-watching Cristina had spent so much time straying from the textbook that she could describe the cafeteria's other occupants in greater detail than she could describe the procedure she was about to perform.

Cristina scowled and forced her gaze back to the textbook at hand. _Fuck Burke. No…unfuck Burke. Burke doesn't deserve an orgasm. Burke doesn't even deserve to remember what it's like to have an orgasm. _

"Hey."

Meredith's dinner tray landed on the table with a clatter, effectively destroying Cristina's pathetic attempts at concentration.

"Do you mind? I'm studying."

"You're studying," Meredith repeated doubtfully.

Cristina glared menacingly, and Meredith knew better than to continue pushing.

"Fine. You're studying."

Cristina heaved a disgusted sigh and slammed the book shut, feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction when the _crack _echoed through the cafeteria.

"Actually, I'm not studying, because I know what I'm doing, and I don't need to study."

Meredith nodded. "Absolutely. It's cardio. You know cardio."

A small, self-satisfied smirk graced Cristina's normally sour features. "Yeah. I know cardio. I own cardio. Hell, I'm fucking married to cardio." _Not to Burke. Who's an asshole._

The word "married" hung dangerously in the air, defying gravity alongside Meredith's fork.

Meredith quirked an eyebrow.

"Whatever," Cristina grumbled. She dropped her book on the floor, smiling slightly when the impact caused the table to shake. "You're dark and twisty and damaged. Let's talk about that."

Meredith shoved a forkful of macaroni in her mouth to hide the smile that threatened to surface.

"Okay. Well…you'll never guess what happened this morning."

It was Cristina's turn to arch an expectant eyebrow.

"I mean, it was the weirdest thing…"

"You're storytelling? Seriously?" Cristina snorted incredulously and rolled her eyes. "Meredith, suspense is for losers with free time. Just spit it out."

Meredith shrugged into her burger. "Okay. Derek apologized."

"Good for him. It's about damn time."

Meredith's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "He implied that you might have had something to do with said apology. He said you two talked last night, or something."

Cristina's expression tightened defensively. "Yeah? So what?"

"He called you tolerable."

Cristina leaned back in her chair and belligerently folded her arms across her chest. "So? I can be tolerable." Meredith shot Cristina a look that clearly conveyed her skepticism, and Cristina rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Oh, whatever. You know what? I can totally be tolerable."

"To Derek?"

Cristina's lips curled in disgust. "It was three in the morning, and I had a moment of weakness. It happens to surgeons who never sleep."

"Cristina…" Meredith prodded, trying in vain to hide her smile. "You told him where to find the earplugs."

Cristina pulled her legs off of the chair on which her feet had been resting and maneuvered until she was sitting upright. "Seriously? That's what this is about? Look, he couldn't sleep because you snore like a foghorn—which, I might add, I know from experience. I took pity. For two seconds, I took pity, because it was three in the morning and I wanted him to leave me alone. Whatever."

Something in Meredith's teasing expression softened, and Cristina felt the little hairs on the back of her neck rise in protest with fear that her person would realize that her "moment of weakness"—her "taking pity"—had nothing to do with Derek Shepherd.

"Cristina," Meredith began tentatively, her brow furrowed in concern, "are you…?"

"Look," Cristina interrupted hastily. "When I start calling him McDreamy without the obvious sarcasm, then you can be worried."

Meredith inhaled sharply and nodded. "So he's not winning you over," she clarified, mustering another small, teasing smile.

Cristina leaned back in her chair and let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Mere…" she began slowly, struggling to sound sympathetic. "Look, did he apologize for picking Satan? Did he acknowledge that you've never asked him to breathe, period? Did he admit that he's an asshole for mentioning the girl in the bar?" She gained speed with each question, feeling both guilty and perversely satisfied by the way Meredith's grimace deepened.

"Well…no, but…"

"Then no," Cristina concluded pointedly, slamming her feet back onto the chair for effect. "He's not winning me over."

The blunt declaration seemed to land between the two friends with a merciless _thud_. Cristina glanced up to assess the damage and fought the urge to wince guiltily when she saw the cracks in Meredith's amused smile. Her brow furrowed in curiosity as she shoved Burke in a box at the back of her subconscious and tried to remember that the conversation might warrant more than the preservation of her hard-assed dignity.

_I fucking abhor men. And estrogen. And…no, just estrogen. God forbid this be something more than hormones._

"Is he winning you over?" she asked finally, her tone uncharacteristically gentle.

Meredith's features contorted in something that looked a lot like resolve, and her eyes found a particularly interesting spot on the table.

"I don't…it's not…it…" Meredith trailed off and wrinkled her nose, wracking her brain for something that even remotely resembled a complete sentence. "Steps," she concluded finally, her head bobbing in affirmation. "We're…making progress. There is progress being made. And steps. We're taking steps. I'm…I'm stepping."

"Into what?" Cristina persisted skeptically. "Cinderella's castle or the lion's den?"

"I don't know," Meredith admitted quietly. Her brow smoothed in pleasant surprise, and the corners of her lips curved ever so slightly upward as she cocked her head to the side and shook her head in something that looked an awful lot like amazement. "I don't know, but…but I think that's okay for now."

Cristina wanted to say something about not knowing and having that uncertainty thrown back in your face. Something about how men don't know how to enjoy the things that are good and ready and standing in front of them in a white dress and heels. Something about how "okay" is the epitome of a temporary situation. But then she looked at Meredith—_really _looked at her—and saw an optimism that hadn't been present since before the entrance of McWife, and all of the words she wanted to say vanished with the Cristina Yang who would've laughed in the face of a traditional wedding.

"Okay," she agreed quietly, in as businesslike a manner as the new, hopeful Cristina could manage. Her brow wrinkled in disgust at the tremor in her voice, and something inside of her snapped back into place. "But if it stops being okay, let me know and I'll kick some neuro ass for you."

Meredith's smile broadened, and a look of understanding passed between the two women. "Okay."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"_Into what? Cinderella's castle or the lion's den?"_

Meredith shuddered, squared her shoulders, and picked up the pace. She was trudging down the hallway with an armful of finished charts. She was on a mission to find Bailey.

She wasn't looking for Derek. She wasn't thinking about the awkward lunch conversation or the one horrible moment in which Cristina's eyes had been fully of pity.

She _wasn't._

Which explained why, when she nearly ran Derek over in front of the nurses' station, she was actually surprised to see him.

Whether the encounter was intentional or not became immaterial when two warm, firm hands gripped her shoulders to steady her. When she finally glanced up to apologize for her clumsiness, two sparkling orbs of indigo stole her breath.

"Where's the fire?" he laughed, allowing the skin around his eyes to crinkle in a wicked grin.

"Bailey," Meredith stammered weakly in response.

Derek rolled his eyes in amazement before leaning in conspiratorially. "You know," he began, his voice low and mischievous, "I might have had something to do with her bad mood."

"Oh really?" Meredith prompted, pursing her lips to hide her smile.

"Really," he confessed, his grin broadening. "I requested you for the tumor case."

Meredith groaned. "You didn't…"

"I did," he chuckled apologetically. "Couldn't help myself, actually. All that sex must have gone straight to my brain."

At the indirect mention of their warped agreement, Meredith inwardly flinched. _See? There it is again. Sex. He's warming to the idea of sex and mockery. Soon, he's not even going to care about conversation…_

"We shouldn't have…" Meredith trailed off and shook her head in a vain attempt to clear it. "You didn't tell me you had to be in surgery so soon."

Derek's brow creased ever so slightly. "What?" He studied her at a distance so close that she could see the exact moment when his brain made the connection between her words and her thoughts. "No. Meredith…you weren't exactly twisting my arm. I went willingly, and I'm glad I did. You're…well…" He trailed off and wiggled his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Stop!" she hissed sharply. She reached out and smacked him as her eyes darted wildly around the hallway, looking for possible gossipmongers. "People can hear you!"

He followed her frantic gaze for a moment before chuckling lowly. "Mere…not to burst your bubble or anything, but we were a lot louder than this earlier."

"We were in a room with the door shut," Meredith snapped.

"Mmm…" Derek trailed off doubtfully and gave his head a tiny shake. "The walls aren't that thick."

Meredith's angry countenance morphed into one of complete and total dismay. "You think this is funny!"

He shrugged playfully. "Well, I didn't think it was funny at the time." He paused to wink at her. "At the time, I wasn't really thinking much of anything."

Meredith's eyes narrowed to furious slits. "Keep talking," she whispered menacingly. "See if you ever have sex in an on-call room again. Hell, see if you ever have _sex _again."

"Empty threats," he chided lightly. "We both know you can't resist me."

Meredith's eyes flashed dangerously. "Watch me," she sneered lowly.

His playful smile faded to a look of intense concern as he realized that, for whatever reason, Meredith wasn't kidding. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Meredith cried in an incredulous whisper. "My boss is pissed off, and she's making my life miserable, and…" _And my best friend just insinuated that the fact that we're kinda-sorta together and taking steps means that I'm going to get my heart broken again, and the way you keep harping on the physical part of our not-relationship makes me think she might be right._

She inhaled sharply at the burst of coherency that flooded her thoughts. _No. She's wrong. This is going well. He's teasing you in the hall like he did in the beginning, and you're going to ruin it because you're overreacting._

She swallowed forcefully and glanced away from his too-blue eyes long enough to get her bearings. When their eyes locked again, she managed a small, sheepish smile.

"Sorry. Paperwork makes me a little cranky." He dipped his chin skeptically, and she forced a giggle. "Okay, a lot cranky. But if you go around pissing Bailey off, she's just going to give me more paperwork, and…and…and it'll be a week before I see the OR again. Even if it's just for something as simple as an appendectomy."

The corners of his mouth curled slightly, and his eyes sparkled in amusement as he squeezed her shoulder. "Relax. She's not mad at you. She's mad at me."

"You think she can't be mad at both of us?" Meredith let out an incredulous chuckle. "You underestimate Bailey. She's the Nazi, remember? She has an endless supply of anger. Her doghouse is… It's enormous. Lots of people can fit."

He pressed his lips together for a moment to keep from laughing at her monologue. "Meredith. She told me to—and I quote—'leave her intern the hell alone' because I'd 'screwed her over enough.'" His eyes twinkled merrily as Meredith emitted a small gasp. "Trust me, she's not mad at you."

"But…doesn't she…?"

He allowed himself a small chuckle as his not-girlfriend fumbled for words. "Apparently, sex, mockery, and conversation is a covert operation. She told me off like she always does and stuck me with Karev."

Meredith's eyes widened. "You're scrubbing in with Alex?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Technically, _he's_ scrubbing in with _me_. It's my case."

It was a hint of vulnerability; a mere flash of the fragile male ego that was usually concealed by Derek's impeccable poker face. For whatever reason, Derek had felt the need to remind her of his importance. _I am man. I am superior. Hear me roar._

The ugly, gnarled part of her started to relax.

"Well, I'm sure he'll appreciate the opportunity," she replied with a genuine smile. "Just, um…don't mention Lexie."

His brow furrowed in confusion and something that looked an awful lot like offense. "Why would I mention Lexie?"

Meredith dipped her chin pointedly. She was more than aware of Derek's tendency to gossip during a surgery.

"Okay," he conceded with a small smile. "Why shouldn't I mention Lexie? I thought she and Karev had an arrangement. Haven't they been sleeping at your place?"

"Yes, but…now…she's got secrets."

"Secrets?" he repeated, eyebrow arched in obvious interest.

Meredith rolled her eyes at the eager display. "Derek. Seriously."

"What?" he hissed defensively. "Lexie is my friend. And she's your sister. I'm just concerned!"

"Concerned," Meredith repeated doubtfully.

"Yes. Concerned."

She shook her head and tried in vain to conceal her amusement. "You know, you really are a woman."

"A horny woman," he corrected distractedly. He scanned the hallway quickly and pulled her into an empty exam room. "You know," he told her as soon as the door had shut, "Mark and I rode the elevator together yesterday. We also went out for a drink."

"And now you're asking my permission to see other people?" Meredith queried with an amused smirk.

Derek's eyebrows buried themselves incredulously in his hairline. "What?! No! I…no! Why does everyone think we're gay?"

Meredith furrowed her brow in confusion. "Everyone?"

"Well, Dr. Hahn…"

Meredith's expression darkened. "She's kind of a bitch."

Derek's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Don't tell Mark that."

Meredith's eyes widened as the connotations of his statement registered. "Seriously?" she demanded. The corners of her mouth curled in excitement. "What do you know?"

A wicked grin spread slowly across Derek's rugged features. "I know that I'm late for surgery with Karev."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Derek Shepherd…"

"We'll talk later?" he interjected, indigo eyes glittering. The corners of his mouth curled in a smirk that simultaneously infuriated and comforted her.

"That depends," she hissed, trying in vain to hide her smile. "Are you going to tell me what you know about Mark?"

"I might," he replied coyly. "Are you going to tell me what you know about Karev and Lexie?"

"He hasn't told me yet," Meredith admitted.

"Mmm," Derek murmured amusedly. "Then we'll have to renegotiate, won't we?"

"Not necessarily," Meredith countered. "You could tell me what you know, and I'll tell you what I know later."

"I don't think so," Derek mused impishly. "How about this? I'll tell you what I know, and you can tell me what the hell you and Yang were discussing during lunch today."

Immediately, the room fell silent.

Meredith's lips parted in surprise. She knew she was supposed to say something funny, something cute and flirty that would prolong the playful tone of the conversation, but she couldn't think well enough to form a coy reply.

He'd identified the underlying source of her irritation. Knowingly.

_But maybe he doesn't know. Maybe…_

She met his gaze fearfully. He was still smirking, but his eyes had darkened in something that looked an awful lot like concern.

She sucked in a breath and forced a tone of nonchalance. "Why do you care what Cristina and I were talking about?"

"You have to ask?" he volleyed with equal disbelief. "You two are always having super-secret conversations. Can't a guy be curious?"

"You talked to her last night," Meredith reminded him lightly. "You know what's going on with Cristina."

"I might," he acknowledged with a small, sheepish smile. Almost immediately, though, the smile faded to the forlorn, solemn, longing look that Meredith both loved and hated. "You two weren't talking about Cristina, though."

_He totally knows._

Her breath hitched in her throat as the lamplight illuminated the green flecks in his deep blue eyes. "What did she say to you last night?"

Their lips met briefly, and her eyes fluttered to a close.

"Ask me later," he murmured against her mouth. "I've got to go." He pulled back and dipped his chin meaningfully in her direction. "We'll talk later tonight?"

A small, sated smile bloomed on Meredith's tired features. "Okay."

His hand found the knob, and he glanced over his shoulder to wink at her. "Sex, mockery, and conversation?" he prodded with a grin.

"Sex, mockery, and conversation," she agreed with a chuckle.

"So…" He trailed off nervously, and Meredith's eyes narrowed in disbelief, because the Derek Shepherd she knew didn't do anything nervously.

"So…" she prompted.

"No more sleepovers with earplugs?" he persisted after a brief pause.

Meredith tilted her head appreciatively, and her eyebrows met gently in a way that conveyed both her curiosity and her confusion at his unexpected query. As she took in everything about him, from his tentative countenance to the uncertain hunch of his shoulders, something inside of her felt very, very warm.

"_It's not the chase."_

She allowed a coy smile to surface and shrugged almost imperceptibly. "Rules were made to be broken."

He gave a brief nod of understanding and slid out, but she knew by the full-wattage grin on his face that she had laid a significant insecurity to rest.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the beginning of their relationship, Meredith had rarely seen Derek without his blackberry. He was always fiddling with it—in elevators, in the lobby, in the halls. The neurosurgeon and the electronic device were practically inseparable, but Meredith had never been able to figure out what he did with it. Now, she knew.

Text messages.

She'd been on her way back to the tunnels when her phone had beeped for the first time. At first, she'd been worried that the phone was malfunctioning. Of course, when she'd flipped the device open to see **1 new text message **printed cheerfully across the screen, her fear of bad technological karma had morphed into something between confusion and curiosity.

Meredith had very rarely gotten phone calls that weren't from her mother's nursing home. Never once had she received a text message.

She'd pressed the "view" button with an inappropriate amount of excitement—a feeling that only intensified as she scanned the message.

_Out of surgery. Successful, but lots of paperwork left. Meet me at the trailer around 1? I'll bring the sex, you bring the conversation. ;)_

After a significant amount of cursing and more than one accidental phone call, she'd finally figured out how to respond. Now, ten minutes later, they were engaged in a series of ridiculously carefree, flirty text messages. She almost felt like she was back in high school, dropping naughty notes to the cute boy across the aisle.

Of course, Derek's affinity for smiley faces wasn't exactly helping.

Her phone beeped again, and she shook her head in amusement as she read his latest suggestive remark.

_Seriously, _she silently mused as she keyed in a response. _What self-respecting surgeon uses smiley faces?_

"Oh, God. You're giggling to yourself? How long have you been down here?"

Meredith met Alex's usual sneer with a smile. "I don't know. Awhile. I haven't been down here the whole time, though."

"That's right," Alex murmured. A naughty grin formed as he hopped up onto the gurney beside her. "How was sex with Shepherd?"

"I plead the fifth," Meredith mumbled, trying in vain to hide her smile. "How was surgery with Shepherd?"

"A lot less orgasmic," he replied dryly. "Tumor on a brain stem. Cool to watch, but kind of anti-climactic."

Meredith nodded knowingly. "Did you get it all?"

"Yup. I mean, they're going to move forward with chemo just in case, but everything looks promising."

Meredith's giddy grin dimmed in satisfaction. "That's good," she mused.

"Yeah."

For a moment, a comfortable silence befell. Meredith returned to her post-op notes, and Alex relaxed against the wall.

Finally, his heavy sigh broke the silence.

"You know," he began thoughtfully, "I figure secrets are a lot like tumors. If you catch 'em early, no one gets hurt, and the damage is minimal. But if you let 'em fester…"

"Bad things happen?" Meredith finished expectantly.

"Exactly," Alex agreed. "So…"

"So…" Meredith echoed.

Alex abruptly turned to face her. "Look, I'm just gonna say it. She might hate me, but her situation sucks, and…and I know you probably won't care because she stole your family or whatever, but I think you need to know."

A ball of fear settled uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. "Okay…"

"Your father's an alcoholic."


	6. Little Earthquakes

**Author's Note: You guys are beyond amazing. Seriously incredible. Thank you so much for the overwhelmingly positive response to the last chapter. It means so much to me that you guys are still reading this story, and the feedback keeps me going when inspiration decides to hit the beach. I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this part up—I agonized and agonized over details and dialogue. This chapter is full of important conversations, and you might hate me when you're done, but…have faith. Rant in feedback form. I love and appreciate your input, always. Thanks for reading!**

**LITTLE EARTHQUAKES**

Meredith's breath hitched in her throat as Lexie's "secret" reverberated painfully against the brick walls of the tunnel.

Your father's an alcoholic…alcoholic…holic…ol… 

She couldn't wrap her mind around the entirety of the declaration, so she reacted with the first thought that registered with any sort of coherency. "He's not my father."

Alex fielded her rationalization with the dismissive quirk of an eyebrow.

"I understand that feeling," he admitted gruffly. "Believe me, I get it. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I felt the same way about my dad. But the thing is…he is your father. He might not act like it, but he's your dad."

Meredith sucked in a breath and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling in a vain attempt to distance herself from the discussion. "Fine. Thatcher's my father. And he's an alcoholic. Whatever."

Alex dipped his chin pointedly in her direction. "Whatever," he repeated doubtfully.

_Text messages, _she thought morosely. _We were sending text messages. _

She let out a sigh that felt like strangely like a deflation. "Alex…what do you want me to say?"

He let out a snort of disbelief. "I don't _want _you to say anything, Grey. I just thought you'd care."

She inhaled through her nostrils, but the rush of fresh air just made her feel cold. _Bright and shiny, _she recited silently to herself. _Just ignore it, and it'll go away. It'll go away, and you can go back to sex, mockery, and conversation. _

"Well, I don't."

Alex dropped both palms on his knees and pulled his torso forward until his sneer was almost directly in her line of vision. "That's bullshit, and you know it."

"Alex…" She chanced a furtive glance in his direction, then folded her arms and went back to counting the bricks on the opposite wall. "I can't care, okay? For the sake of my freaking sanity, I can't care."

"Sure you can." His voice was low, but casual. Nonchalant. It was almost goading. "Look, Meredith, he may not be your father, but she's your sister. She's been taking care of him all by herself, and…frankly, she could use your help." He reached around and hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his scrubs. "For jackass with no balls, he's a pretty big handful."

Guilt seeped unbidden into her very pores, tying her stomach into uncomfortable knots and causing the backs of her eyes to prick with the sudden rush of unshed tears.

Bright and shiny. Bright and shiny. Bright and… 

A tiny drop of saltwater edged out of her right eye, and her mantra dissolved.

"So he's an alcoholic!" she exploded, arms flailing angrily. "So he's a handful! So _what?_ He picked her! He picked them! There wasn't a drawer full of unopened cards or…whatever. He's not my responsibility!"

Her chest heaved with the force of her outburst as her arms fell uselessly to her sides. The renegade teardrop slid placidly down her cheek and landed on her scrubs with an almost inaudible _plop, _leaving a tiny circle of indigo in a sea of baby blue.She stared at the stain with unchecked contempt as she angrily brushed a hand across her face.

Alex dropped to the floor, legs criss-cross-applesauce, and rested his elbows on his knees. When he glanced up expectantly, their gazes locked, and his scowl softened. "Meredith…I get that, okay? I get it. He's an asshole. A coward. A pussy who walked away when you were too young to call him on it, and…not that you give a shit what I think, but as far as I'm concerned, he doesn't deserve to know you. You're a strong person—a really fucking good person—in spite of him, and he doesn't deserve to know you." Alex shook his head angrily and, for a brief moment, allowed his gaze to drift to the floor. "He's surrounded by good people that he doesn't deserve."

Meredith was taken aback by the depth of anger in his voice.

"Look," Alex said finally, his gaze rising to meet hers, "I'm not asking you to help him. As far as I'm concerned, the fucker can wrap himself around a tree. Good riddance, you know?"

Meredith swallowed forcefully as the image of her father's corpse presented itself.

"I'm asking you to help her."

Meredith inhaled shakily and forced herself to swallow the tears pooling in her eyes. Her gaze flitted briefly to the ceiling as she tried to regain composure, and her fingers flew to her temples in a vain attempt to stave off the headache that was beginning to build.

When her eyes found Alex again, her voice was little more than a whisper. "Why do you care so much?"

Alex heaved a sigh of his own and leaned back on his hands. His posture was relaxed, but Meredith knew from twitch of his jaw that he was waging a war inside.

"I…"

The word lost breath and direction quickly, but it carried more vulnerability than Meredith had ever heard from Alex.

Alex's elbows returned to his knees, and his lips curled in a scowl as he glared at the ground. "Fuck it," he grumbled finally. "I like her, okay? I like your sister. She's naïve and secretive and fucking _hard _to read, but I like her, and…fuck." His eyebrows rose imploringly as he locked gazes with Meredith. "Look, I know it's not fair of me to ask you to help her. I know you don't owe her anything, and I kind of don't blame you for hating her guts. I just…I've been where she's been, and it sucks. Having a parent who cares more about the booze than he does about you…it sucks. And she's green and innocent and shit, but…no one deserves to go through that." He blew out a stream of air. "Lexie…she deserves a happy ending."

For a moment, they sat in silence, both listening to the sad echo of Alex's admission.

At long last, Meredith quirked an expectant eyebrow. "You know what you're asking me to do, right?" she demanded dryly. "Her happy ending? It's the reason I'm so screwed up."

"Yeah, well," Alex grunted, "her happy ending is falling apart at the seams, and you have a chance to help her." He countered Meredith's pointed look with one of his own. "Do you really want to be the reason _she's_ so screwed up?"

"No! I don't even want her to _be_ screwed up. Not really. It's just that…" She trailed off for a moment, and when her eyes found Alex, they were bright and full of unshed tears. When she spoke, her voice was pained and pleading.

"I did this already, Alex. That thing where the child takes care of the parent or whatever? I've already done that." She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes in a vain attempt to hide how deeply the conversation had shaken her. "I don't want to do it again. Not for Lexie."

Alex pursed his lips together and tilted his head ever so slightly. "So don't do it for Lexie," he volleyed simply. "Do it for me."

Merdith's eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Alex…" she began warningly.

"No, seriously," he interrupted. "We can ambush her, okay? We'll share the responsibilities. It won't be like it was with your mother. You won't be doing it alone." He paused long enough to dip his chin meaningfully in her direction. "And she won't either."

Meredith rolled her eyes and folded her arms petulantly across her chest. "Look," she demanded angrily. "Why do you even need me? Why can't _you_ just help her? Why do _I_ have to be involved?"

His gaze returned to the floor and, for a moment, she was sure she'd won.

"Because Shepherd wasn't enough."

At the mention of Derek, Meredith's mind flitted briefly back to the text messages. "What?"

"Shepherd wasn't enough," Alex enunciated pointedly. "When all of your dark and twisty shit happened, you landed in the bay. It wasn't like you were alone, Meredith. You had Cristina and Izzie and George and…well, you had me. You definitely had Shepherd. I know people haven't said much to you about those three hours that you were out, but Shepherd sat down outside your trauma room and cried like a baby. The chief, Addison, Bailey…no one could get him off that floor. He was a mess."

Meredith sucked in a deep, shaking breath and kept her eyes firmly fixed to the bricks in front of her. "I'm sorry you all were worried," she recited finally, her tone careful and measured.

"I'm not," Alex grunted. "That's not my point. My point is that Shepherd wasn't enough to keep you out of the bay in the first place. You can feed people that shit about the water being cold all day long, but you and I both know that what really happened was you were tired, and you decided for a second too long that maybe, it wouldn't be so bad to drown."

His words hung, painfully suspended in the silence that followed.

"The water _was _cold," Meredith insisted finally. Her gaze was still trained on the wall, but her voice was pleading.

"You lost a parent," Alex countered matter-of-factly. "Not because of a car accident or cancer, but because your parent sucked too much to stick around when it mattered."

Meredith inhaled sharply and confidently met Alex's gaze. "You're telling me that Lexie is losing a parent."

Alex shrugged. "I'm just saying…sometimes, you need family."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Derek Shepherd was whistling. Actually whistling. Not the Clash—which comprised most of his usual whistling repertoire—but some cheerful, jazzy tune that he was making up as he went along.

It had been a good day. He had successfully completed a craniotomy, saved a woman from paralysis, and removed a tumor. Somewhere in there, he'd also managed to have mind-blowing sex with the love of his life—twice. And then there were the text messages.

He paused mid-measure to smile at the memory of Meredith's incoherent first message. She'd managed to key in all the words correctly, but she'd forgotten to leave spaces between them, so the smart, sexy reply to his proposition had arrived at his inbox as one long word. He'd laughed for a good five minutes before responding.

She had learned quickly, though, and their brief quips had evolved into a long, flirtatious conversation that had been the perfect end to a perfect day.

Bits of her cute, coy remarks flitted through his head as he resumed whistling. With the careful movements of a surgeon, he removed a brand new bottle of tequila from its brown paper bag and set it alongside the tumbler and shot glass he'd already removed from the cabinet. Moments later, the bottle of scotch joined the fray, and Derek stood back to admire his handiwork.

Meredith had agreed to bring the conversation only if sustenance was somehow involved. Unfortunately, Derek's kitchen was stocked with only the barest of breakfast essentials, and he'd only been able to scrounge up a few wheat bagels. Of course, given her usual fare of grilled cheese and cold pizza, he didn't think she'd mind. Especially not after a few shots of tequila. He had purchased the bottle—perhaps idealistically—as an ode to their first night together. If things went well, they'd both get drunk, and someone would take advantage.

_Just like old times._

His tentative plans were interrupted by the telltale crunch of gravel beneath tires as two bright, white headlights illuminated the trailer's tiny kitchen. The subtle roar of the engine ceased abruptly, and the gentle, rhythmic tap of footfalls on the porch gave way to a series of curt knocks that rattled the door.

For the first time in a year, Derek actually had butterflies in his stomach.

"It's open!" he called as he hurriedly found a plate for the bagels.

The metal door creaked on its hinges before coming to a rather loud close.

"Hey," she said breathlessly.

He whirled around with a grin to return her greeting. "Hey."

She shot him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes, and a tiny ball of fear settled painfully in the pit of his stomach.

"I have bagels," he offered pathetically. "I know it's not much, but I only ever eat breakfast here, and…"

She waved a small hand in dismissal. "I'm not hungry." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and the corner of her mouth curved in a seductive smirk.

He gulped as she sauntered purposely towards him. "You're…you're not?"

"I'm not." She raked her fingernails along his chest, teasing him through the fabric of his shirt. "Not for food, anyway."

She pulled her sweater over her head, and Derek's breath hitched in his throat as various parts of his anatomy began to react to her striptease.

_Conversation, _he thought helplessly. _Focus on the conversation._

"Um…Mark has a crush on Erica Hahn," he blurted hopefully.

He was fighting a losing battle.

She slid her pants down and ran her hands deliciously along his chest and shoulders before teasing her fingers along his hemline. She began unbuttoning his shirt quickly, her nails scraping his chest through the fabric. Finally, the shirt fell to the floor, and she wove her fingers through his curls, bringing his head down to capture his lips with hers.

"Sex now," she ordered huskily, her breath hot on his cheek. "Conversation later."

The sudden bulge in his jeans left him in no condition to argue.

She tugged his jeans off in one swift motion and pulled him to the bed, gripping his head like a vice as she raked her nails through his hair. He collapsed against the mattress, and her hands were everywhere; skimming the taut skin of his abdomen, kneading his shoulders and gripping his ass. Her lips sought his hungrily, and he pulled her hips toward him when the pain of arousal became more than he could bear.

Her pelvis rocked against him with an urgency that was at once tantalizing and terrifying.

_Wrong,_ his head screamed against the cacophony of desperate moaning. _Something is very, very wrong._

Stars exploded behind his eyelids, and a familiar warmth washed over him as his entire body began to quake.

Seconds later, she collapsed against him, slick and trembling. His arms found their way around her as her muscles relaxed, and he held her in sated silence as their breathing returned to normal.

He squeezed her affectionately once more before pulling away to stretch. His arms extended overhead, and he sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

"That was…" He chuckled haltingly. His brain had yet to return to full functionality. "Wow."

She turned her head towards him and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"I, um…" He trailed off and scrubbed his face with his hand, trying in vain to form a coherent thought. "I…ugh. Wow."

Meredith bit back a chuckle. "I'd say 'you're welcome,' but I'm not sure that's an appropriate response."

He grunted.

"Is that supposed to be 'thank you' in caveman?"

"You're making fun of me," he mumbled incredulously. "You gave me an orgasm that may very well have obliterated my higher brain function, and now you're making fun of me."

The corners of her mouth curled in a barely concealed grin. "Sex and mockery, right?" she teased, her eyes glittering in amusement. "I'm just playing by the rules."

"Yes, well…" He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "I might need a second to recover before I try to attempt conversation."

She leaned her head back against the pillow and let loose the infectious giggle that he loved.

_I love you._

He wanted so very badly to say it, but the unsettled feeling in his stomach kept the words at bay.

Instead, Meredith spoke, lowering her lids demurely as she fingered the edge of the sheet. "Tell me about Hahn and Sloan."

He exhaled with a _whoosh _and rolled over to meet her gaze. "There's not too much to tell," he admitted sheepishly. "He's certainly attracted to her, but I don't think she's interested, so I doubt the attraction will last." His eyes twinkled merrily as he recalled their conversation in the elevator. "It's certainly amusing to watch, though. He's pretty indignant about it."

The corner of Meredith's mouth curved in acknowledgment, but the smirk was gone as quickly as it came. "Why don't you think the attraction will last?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's Mark. She's a challenge now, but…he'll eventually get bored with her."

The words hovered just inches above the pillow, dark and foreboding, as the little voice in Meredith's head adopted their mantra.

"_He'll eventually get bored with her."_

She squirmed uncomfortably.

"Anyway," Derek segued eagerly, "enough about Mark and Erica Hahn. What's the word on Karev and Lexie?"

Meredith's lithe frame tensed noticeably, and his brow immediately furrowed in concern.

"It's…nothing," Meredith concluded lamely, picking idly at the bedspread. "It's…it's fine. They're fine."

He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as his lips partly slightly in a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Are _you_ okay?" he queried softly.

She shot him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. Of course. I'm fine."

"You're fine," he repeated doubtfully, his tone edged with bitterness.

She inhaled sharply as his hand fell away. "I'm…"

"You're not fine," he interrupted grudgingly. "No one who uses that word is ever fine. Especially you." He buried his hands in his hair and shot her a disgusted sideways glance, but his entire demeanor shifted when he saw the fervor with which she was biting her lower lip. He'd seen that look before, moments after Meredith's last encounter with Ellis Grey.

The image of Meredith, pale and lifeless and floating eerily in the dark blue water of the bay lurked somewhere in the corners of his mind. _Not fine._

His temper abated quickly. "Mere…what did he tell you?" She flinched ever so slightly, and the crease in his brow deepened. "What's the secret?"

Alex's gruff voice rang in her ears, a stark contrast to Derek's soft, pleading tone.

"_Thatcher's an alcoholic."_

She wanted to tell him. More than anything, she wanted to curl up against his chest and spill the whole sordid story—about Alex and his expectations, and Lexie and her happy ending, and how no matter what, bright-and-shiny always seemed to escape her grasp. She wanted to tell him how angry it made her that she couldn't hate Thatcher; how angry it made her that, no matter how many times Thatcher let her down, she couldn't walk away from him, and she couldn't stop hoping that he'd come back and be a father.

She wanted to tell him that she felt responsible for them—even though Thatcher had never been a father and Lexie had never been a sister and they had never been a family—and that her sense of obligation brought with it a deep-seated bitterness that made her feel ugly and twisted and wrong.

She really wanted to bury her face in his shoulder and cry until the ache in her chest had dulled enough for her to see clearly again. But then she heard his voice, whisper-soft and resigned.

"_I don't know if I want to keep trying to breathe for you."_

She inhaled slowly and gripped the sheets to keep from reaching out for him.

"It's…it's nothing, Derek," she finished lamely, ignoring the voice in her head that whispered _liar _into the silence.

"Nothing?" he repeated in disbelief.

She sighed. "Couple stuff," she lied quietly. She managed a small, shattered smile. "Really…it's nothing."

He folded his arms across his chest expectantly. "Okay." He studied her briefly. "What were you and Cristina talking about at lunch?"

Her sharp intake of breath was enough to frustrate him, but the way her eyes darted nervously towards the door made his stomach turn.

"We were, um…" She trailed off and sank into the pillows with an air of defeat. "Lions," she said finally, her voice barely audible. "We were talking about lions."

Silence settled painfully in the ample space between them.

Derek could hear her breathing steadily on the other side of the bed, but the sound came to him as though through a tunnel, a mere soundtrack for his racing thoughts.

"_What'd you talk about this morning?"_

"_Bank robberies."_

He glanced across the bed and realized—not for the first time—that he barely knew the girl beside him.

_This is how it's always going to be_, he realized. _It's never going to get any better._

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should ask her about the lions. Knew that if he asked the right questions over and over and over again, she'd eventually answer. Knew that if he wore her down, she'd curl back into his chest and maybe—_maybe_—adhere to the "conversation" part of their arrangement. He was just…tired.

_So. Damn. Tired_.

As they lay side by side on the bed, listening to each other breathe in the uncomfortable silence, he couldn't help but think that it wasn't supposed to be this hard.

Suddenly, the bed springs creaked to life, and he felt the mattress shift beneath him. He rolled over in time to see her throwing her legs over the side of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

She glanced over her shoulder, guilt etched across her delicate features.

"I…you…" She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes. "It's late," she mumbled finally, "and you don't have your earplugs, and…"

He sighed heavily. "You're leaving," he finished, unable to rid his tone of bitterness.

Her helpless expression would've broken his heart once.

"You need your sleep," she said instead. "I snore and I'm loud and…you deserve to get some sleep."

He knew that he should argue. Knew that, if he protested, she might crawl back up into bed and curl up against him. He just didn't have the energy.

Not anymore.


	7. Hold On Loosely

**Author's Note:**** As always, thank you guys so much for the amazing, amazing feedback! Your opinions mean the world to me. I know the last chapter didn't end with the best of circumstances, but thanks for having faith and being patient with me. This one took a bit longer than expected, but it's also longer than expected, so hopefully the two will cancel out. ;) A few quick notes on this chapter: this marks the first time I've ever borrowed a few of Shonda's words. They're denoted with an asterisk. This chapter also marks the entrance of Mark and Izzie. Mark was **_**insanely **_**difficult to write, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. Finally, you'll notice that all of the chapters in "Step by Step" are named after songs. Consider them suggested listening, lol. Thanks for reading, and thanks for sticking with me!**

**HOLD ON LOOSELY**

It was another cold, rainy day in Seattle, but Derek didn't mind the weather. In fact, he actually preferred the gray skies today. They suited his mood perfectly.

He hadn't gotten much sleep after Meredith left. Even in the absence of her snoring—or, perhaps, because of it—he hadn't been able to get the pain in his stomach or the ache in his heart to subside enough for sleep to come. Instead, he'd spent hours staring at the ceiling, following the straight lines of the trailer's skylight back and forth and wondering how everything had gone downhill so quickly.

He'd thought they were fine. They were still on shaky ground, yes, but they were having slow, passionate sex in on-call rooms and flirting mercilessly in the stairwells. It had begun to feel a bit like the beginning of the relationship, before Addison's arrival had unearthed trust issues and abandonment issues and a plethora of other insecurities.

Now, in the aftermath of an orgasm, she would curl her tiny frame around him, and he'd snake his arms around her, and they would talk. About sex, and surgeries, and fake sisters, and unwanted landmates, and…well, the moments of their lives. Every day, she had unveiled a bit more of herself, and he was always awestruck by the force with which her revelations made him fall more deeply in love with her.

He'd thought they could talk about anything, but the previous evening had been a painful reality check.

_She's never going to trust me. She'll entertain the notion of conversation, but she's never going to want to talk about the serious stuff. Not when the serious stuff involves her._

A disturbingly cheerful _ding _interrupted his reverie. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he tightened the grip on his briefcase and trudged forlornly onto the empty elevator.

He was already sinking back into the depths of his thoughts when the hurried clack of expensive shoes and the enticing smell of new leather demanded his attention.

"Hold up, man."

Derek lifted his curious gaze just in time to see Mark Sloan slipping through the elevator doors. The plastic surgeon jabbed the button for the third floor with his middle finger and slid back against the wall of the elevator, heaving a sigh of relief as he took a cautious sip of his coffee.

He managed a sheepish half-smile in Derek's direction. "Close call, huh?" he chuckled.

Derek acquiesced with a pathetic excuse for a smile. Immediately, Mark's usual smirk faded to a confused frown.

"What's up with you?"

Derek heaved a transparent sigh and trained his stormy indigo eyes on a pink flyer announcing a new hospital bridge club. "Nothing," he mumbled finally.

Mark snorted in disbelief. "Bullshit. Seriously, man, you look like someone ran over your puppy. What's up?"

Derek heaved another sigh and dragged a forlorn gaze to the floor tiles.

Mark rolled his eyes skyward and took another cautious sip of coffee. "You know your moping act puts a serious damper on the whole McDreamy thing, right?"

Derek narrowed his eyes warningly in Mark's direction, and the plastic surgeon's lips curled in a satisfied smirk.

"Nice to know you're still together enough to be pissed at me."

The comment was smug, smart-assed, and typical Mark, but there was a bitter edge to it that made Derek feel slightly guilty. With another sigh, he rolled his shoulders back and attempted a small smile for Mark's benefit.

"I'm not…angry anymore."

Mark made no move to respond, but his smirk faded to something decidedly more genuine.

Satisfied, Derek leaned back against the wall of the elevator and heaved another morose sigh.

Mark reached out and pulled the emergency stop lever, then turned expectantly to Derek.

"Okay, spill."

Derek's brow creased in confusion. "What?"

Mark rolled his eyes incredulously. "Come on, Derek. You've sighed, like, sixteen times in the past two minutes. I know we're not best friends again just yet, but you can't go out and cut people's brains open like this. So…go. Shoot. What the hell is wrong?"

They suffered a pregnant pause while Derek contemplated the floor tiles. Finally, he emitted his countless sigh of the morning and quietly broke the silence.

"I…" He trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off his mounting headache. "I don't think it's going to work with Meredith."

Mark stood silently for a moment, sipping his coffee in contemplation, then delivered a curt, satisfied nod. "Okay."

Derek glanced over incredulously. "Okay? That's it? You're not going to fight me on this?"

Mark met Derek's gaze skeptically over the lid of his coffee cup. "Do you want me to fight you on this?"

"I want…" Derek trailed off and ran a troubled hand through his hair as he glared agitatedly at neon numbers indicating the elevator's progress. They were frozen. _That's how I feel, _he concluded dryly._ Frozen. Fucking paralyzed. Like Meredith just pulled the stop lever._

He rolled his eyes at his pathetic metaphor.

"I want you to give me advice," he admitted finally, chancing a sideways glance at his former best friend. "And I might regret saying that in a few minutes, but…but right now, I don't know what to do."

Mark gave another curt nod. "Well, okay then," he replied gruffly. "We'll start over. What happened?"

Derek snorted. "It's more like what _didn't _happen…"

Mark dipped his chin pointedly.

Derek sighed.

"I don't know," he concluded finally. "We were doing the sex and mockery thing…"

"Which, for some unknown reason, you hated."

Derek narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Right. But then I got her to add conversation to the arrangement. And, for awhile, we were talking, and it felt like we were getting to the point where we could finally communicate with each other."

Mark shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"It was. But…last night, when we were supposed to follow sex with conversation, she just…left."

Mark's eyebrows rose in surprise. "She left?"

Derek gave a curt nod of confirmation. "She left."

Mark folded his arms and feigned confusion. "But she did show up."

Derek's brow furrowed in a deep, frustrated frown. "Mark… Look, that's not the point. We had a deal. Karev had some secret, and she and Cristina had had one of their stupidly intense conversations during lunch, and she was supposed to let me know what was going on, but when I asked, she gave me a bunch of cryptic, bullshit answers."

"Ah, so she didn't just leave," Mark volleyed with a smirk. "She answered."

"Cryptically," Derek countered. "Bullshit, cryptic answers about zoo animals."

Mark pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "Did you ask her to elaborate?"

"No, but…that's not the point."

Mark shrugged noncommittally at the elevator doors. "Maybe that is the point. You said it yourself, Derek. She's a little fucked up."

Derek exhaled with such resignation that he seemed to deflate before Mark's very eyes.

"I can't do this anymore," he admitted quietly. "Everything is a struggle, and…and I'm tired of fighting her on this. I'm tired of fighting for every tiny piece of information. I'm just so fucking _tired_…" He trailed off and heaved a sigh that held the weight of the world. "It shouldn't be this hard, right? It's not supposed to be this hard."

The corners of Mark's mouth curled in an ironic smirk as he reflected on the energy he'd exerted to regain Derek's confidence. Beside him, Derek fell forlornly against the wall of the elevator and raked a hand through his precious curls.

"I'm just really, really tired," he concluded quietly.

"So you're giving up," Mark finished expectantly.

Derek shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know."

Mark scrubbed his face with a calloused hand before casting a sideways glance at the man he'd once called his brother. "Look, you want my advice? I'll give it to you." He shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know how hard it's supposed to be. I only know this; the stuff that's worth it? The important stuff? That stuff's never easy. And sometimes, the difficulty is how you know something's worth it."

Derek heaved a sigh and stared helplessly at the brushed silver doors. "You're saying that Meredith is worth it."

Mark followed his friend's gaze with a strange sense of resignation. "I'm saying that you have to fight for the things of substance."

Derek ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, succumbing for a moment to the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him. When he spoke, his voice was whisper-soft.

"I'm just really tired of fighting. And…" He paused to emit a low, hollow chuckle. "And I don't think she's fighting at all."

Mark thought of Addison, her brow glistening with sweat as she raked her nails along his chest and tried desperately not to scream Derek's name. He thought of the way she would cover his hand with hers whenever Derek was around, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly to gauge her husband's reaction. And then he thought of Meredith, bent over the sink in the scrub room, her eyes glittering excitedly as she expressed her surprise that her trick-or-treating effort had succeeded despite her lack of experience.

"She's fighting," he said quietly.

Derek glanced over, his lips parted in surprise. "What?'

"Meredith," Mark clarified, clearing his throat gruffly. "She's fighting." His thoughts flitted once more to Addison, and his heart ached longingly in the way it always did when she crossed his mind. "Sometimes," he continued, "sometimes people fight in different ways. Ways that aren't obvious. But Meredith…she's fighting. And if you're too tired to fight anymore, well…" He narrowed his eyes in Derek's direction and, for the first time, the neurosurgeon saw something that looked almost like jealousy in his friend's gaze. "Maybe you're not as worth it as she thought you were."

Mark's gaze dropped to the floor, and Derek's brow creased in confusion.

He was going to say something. Something about how Meredith wasn't ready. How she was still just an intern with issues, and she didn't love him enough to swim when she obviously knew how. But then Mark reached over and pushed the emergency stop lever, and the elevator resumed motion.

Apparently, Mark was done giving advice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had not been a good morning.

It should've been a good morning. George had presented impressively on a DBS candidate, and his explanations—both of Parkinson's and the procedure to alleviate a portion of the symptoms—had been thorough enough to earn him and her a place in Dr. Shepherd's operating room later that evening. Of course, the excitement of a unique brain surgery had been immediately overshadowed by the frigidity with which Dr. Shepherd had referred to her as "Dr. Grey."

He called her "Dr. Grey" frequently in the hospital, but he usually said the name with a playful, flirty edge.

Not today. Today, Meredith was "Dr. Grey" with a glare. Today, she was reeling from the effects of very little sleep and even less coffee. Today, she was scared that her penchant for flight over fight might have completely destroyed the delicate arrangement of sex, mockery, and conversation. And then there was the added pressure of having to decide whether or not to make an effort to help the sister that had gotten her happy ending with the father who had left…

She rolled her eyes and dropped her charts at the nurse's station, pausing for just a moment to breathe.

"You know what I liked about Izzie?"

Meredith glanced incredulously at the ceiling. _Seriously? Seriously?!_

Having effectively communicated her frustration with a God in whom she didn't entirely believe, Meredith heaved a sigh and turned to face her persistent friend.

"I don't know," she mumbled finally. "She makes good cupcakes?"

Alex dipped his chin pointedly. "She was optimistic," he deadpanned. "She believed in happy endings. Even despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary." He paused for a moment—partially to scan the area for eavesdropping nurses and partially for dramatic effect—before arching his eyebrows expectantly in a way that left little room for argument. "She's not optimistic anymore, Meredith."

Meredith was absolutely certain that the hallway had gotten smaller. "But…Denny died. And you…and Olivia…George."

Alex dismissed her excuses with a shrug, planting one hand on his hip and the other on the wall so that she was rendered practically incapable of escaping. "Mere, come on," he'd grumbled. "Don't make me beg."

She stared intently at the floor, trying in vain to erase Derek's glare from her mind. His voice, an almost undetectable sneer, played in her head like a broken record. _"Nicely done, O'Malley. You and Dr. Grey will scrub in…"_

"Look, I don't want Lexie to be part of the club."

It was enough to silence the infuriating soundtrack, if only for a moment. "The club?" Meredith repeated blankly.

"The Dark & Twisty Club," Alex clarified with another maddening shrug. "It's our club. I want it to be exclusive."

Meredith inhaled sharply. "But…I'm already in an exclusive club with Sloan."

Alex actually had the gall to smirk at her. "I know. It can be your new thing. Exclusive clubs with plastic surgeons."

"Plastic surgeons?" she queried with the ghost of a smile. "I thought you had a thing with the vagina squad?"

The left corner of Alex's mouth curled in an appreciative smirk. "I had a thing with the captain of the vagina squad," he corrected. "There's a difference."

Meredith's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Derek had a thing for the captain of the vagina squad."

Alex frowned deeply. Convincingly. "Meredith…come on."

She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to fight off the looming headache. When she reopened them, he was staring expectantly at her.

For the first time in a long time, she couldn't meet his gaze.

"Alex…stop, okay? Just stop. I need some time to think. I need to…process, or whatever."

He sucked in a preparatory breath, but whatever he had planned to say was lost in Izzie's jubilant interruption.

"Alex! You'll _never_ guess who showed up to see Dr. Sloan this morning."

Alex exhaled with a _whoosh. _"Iz…"

"Frank!" Izzie cried excitedly. "Come on, Alex. I'm sure he's just _dying _to see you…"

With a reluctant sigh and the barest hint of a smile, Alex allowed himself to be whisked away.

"Process, Grey!" he ordered over his shoulder. "We're not done talking!"

Meredith rolled her eyes and silently thanked God for Izzie as she made her way to the cafeteria. She purchased a rather bland-looking hamburger in the line and heaved a sigh of relief when she spotted Cristina sitting alone at a table in the corner. As soon as she reached her friend, she set her lips in a line and dropped her tray unceremoniously on the lunch table, where it landed with a loud _clatter._

Cristina looked up from her textbook in minor annoyance.

"What the…?"

Meredith fell into her seat with a deep, dark frown. "Life sucks."

Almost immediately, her friend's surly countenance became a mask of thinly-veiled cyicism. "Tell me about it."

"It just…sucks. I mean, why can't people just be happy? Why can't you have your cake and eat it too? Why can't you have a happily ever after with the horse and the sunset and the knight in shining…whatever? Seriously!"

Cristina snapped her book shut with a frown. "Okay, what the hell happened to you?"

Meredith's fingers descended angrily on her mound of French fries. "Thatcher's an alcoholic," she muttered angrily. "And I might have walked out on Derek last night."

Cristina's eyebrows scaled a significant portion of her ivory brow. "Oh."

For a brief moment, the two sat in silence. Meredith inhaled her fries with a quiet fury, and Cristina began an intense study of the tabletop.

"I told Shepherd that I miss Burke," she admitted finally, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

Meredith glanced up from her hamburger in alarm. "You did? Why?"

Cristina folded her arms defiantly. "Because I do," she grumbled in disgust. "And I _hate_ that I miss him. I hate that I miss him most in the OR, because that used to be the one place I could go to think. And I hate Dr. Hahn, because she's amazing, but she's not Burke, and all she does is remind me that he used to be here, and now he's not."

Meredith's eyebrows rose appreciatively. "And the whole hospital is tainted by the fact that he used to be here," she finished quietly, expectantly.

"Exactly!" Cristina cried, furrowing her brow in disgust. "He used to be everywhere! _Everywhere!_ Because he's Preston _fucking_ Burke. And I know he's gone, but it _still_ feels like he's everywhere." She rolled her eyes in frustration. "Or maybe it just _feels_ like he's nowhere, but it's such a strong fucking feeling that he might as well be everywhere." She shook her head exasperatedly. "Does that even make sense?"

Suddenly, Meredith was five years old and wandering curiously through her stuffy, crowded house, looking under beds and behind bookshelves and wondering when Daddy had gotten so good at hide-and-seek.

"Yeah," she mumbled finally. "It makes sense."

Cristina inhaled sharply and glared at the plastic container that was still speckled with remnants of Caesar dressing. "I hate him," she hissed. "I hate all men. Like, for two seconds, he turned me into this pathetic girl who saw stupid…_fairy_ tales everywhere, and now I just see assholes and doors slamming and…men that leave their girlfriends at the altar."

Another silence befell as loneliness settled like a leaden weight in the middle of the table.

At long last, Cristina looked up with an expression of defeat, and fear's long, icy fingers wrapped themselves securely around Meredith's stomach.

"Look," Cristina began slowly, "I'm blaming PMS." She leaned forward and placed both elbows on the table before leveling Meredith with an uncharacteristic look of uncertainty. "I know we don't do this. We never do this, but…can we be honest for a second?"

Meredith swallowed uncomfortably. "Sure."

"I don't want to be like your mother."

Meredith's chest tightened painfully as the vulnerable admission hung in the air.

"I like surgery. I do. It's just…it's not enough. I can't take a scalpel to bed with me." Cristina reached up and twisted her wild curls into a messy bun before dropping her arms back onto the table with a _thud_. "I don't want to be alone."

Meredith let out a soft, incredulous snort. "Yeah, well…me neither."

Cristina leaned back, folded her arms across her chest, and took a moment to study her best friend with pained objectivity. "I can't believe I'm about to say this," she muttered, "but…tell him that."

Meredith glanced up in a mixture of shock and confusion. "What?"

Cristina rolled her eyes and flicked a stray piece of lettuce off the table. "Tell Shepherd you don't want to lose him," she repeated matter-of-factly. "Look, I'm not telling you this because I like Shepherd, or because I think he's even remotely worthy, but…he couldn't sleep. When you were gone, on the not-honeymoon, he couldn't sleep without you." She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "He's an idiot, and he can be a real McAsshole, but he loves you. I know he sometimes does a really shitty job of showing it, but…he loves you, and he wants you, and…you deserve better than lonely." She set her lips in a thin line and folded her arms. "So tell him." She heaved a sigh and cocked her head pointedly. "Don't let your stupid mother ruin you forever, Meredith. You're better than that."

Meredith glanced up and arched an eyebrow expectantly. "So are you, you know. Burke…"

Cristina's expression immediately turned sour. "Burke left."

Meredith snorted in disgust. "Burke's a coward who sends his mother to clean up his messes. He's…he's Thatcher, okay? And you deserve better than a coward. You deserve someone who..." She trailed off and waved a hand in the air, trying in vain to conjure the words her friend deserved to hear. "You know," she finished lamely. "Knight. Sunsets. Whatever."

"Sunsets?" Cristina repeated with palpable repulsion.

The corners of Meredith's mouth curled in a small, sheepish smile. "Sunsets. Steps of City Hall. Sex on the beaches of…somewhere warm. Whatever."

Silence befell for a brief moment as Cristina rested in her head in her hand and used her index finger to draw circles on the table. When she finally looked up, her face was void of any and all emotion. "This conversation never happened," she stated firmly in her usual no-nonsense tone.

Meredith smiled knowingly into her burger. "Fine with me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Tell Derek you don't want to lose him. Tell Derek you don't want to lose him. Tell Derek you don't want to lose him. Tell Derek…_

Meredith inhaled deeply and rolled her eyes at her pathetic mantra. She wasn't sure what was worse—the fact that she needed to keep repeating it to herself, or the fact that Cristina had been the one to enlighten her.

_Talk to Derek_. It seemed like such a simple solution. Such a simple, stupid solution to their simple, stupid problems. _Of course, it's kind of hard to talk to Derek when Derek is absolutely nowhere to be found._

With a sigh of fear and resignation, Meredith made the executive decision to page him. Armed with the MRI results for their DBS candidate, she spun on her heel and headed reluctantly towards the nurse's station.

She was merely ten steps from the desk when his voice wafted towards her.

"So, is Spider Solitaire a regular responsibility of the nursing staff now, or is this just a cure for the Mondays?"

The comment was followed by a bashful giggle that made Meredith's blood run cold.

"Um...can we pretend it's just a figment of your imagination?"

She didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking. "Sort of like the Dorito remnants you have right here?"

Meredith glanced around the corner just in time to see the crimson blush on Nurse Olivia's cheeks. As the petit nurse put her hands on her hips and dipped her chin expectantly, Meredith's stomach clenched painfully.

"Do you need something, Dr. Shepherd?"

He leaned forward, resting his palms against the edge of the desk, and smirked at her. "Are you implying that I'd come over here solely to harass you?"

Olivia shook her head in girlish amusement. "Well, you attendings definitely have a reputation…"

"You mean Dr. _Sloan_ has a reputation," Derek corrected with a wry smile. Nurse Olivia giggled again, and Meredith's breath hitched painfully in her throat.

_He's flirting. He's actually flirting with her._

It was too much.

Instinct took over, and before Meredith knew what was happening, she was striding confidently toward the nurse's desk, brandishing the test results like a weapon and shooting daggers with her eyes.

"Dr. Shepherd," she called pointedly, "I have the MRI scans for our DBS candidate. Come have a look with me, will you? I see something that might be a cause for concern."

He glanced up in acknowledgment, his lips parted in preparation, but she didn't wait for his response. Instead, she wrapped her tiny fingers around his bicep and dragged him into the nearest exam room. As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, he yanked his arm away, rubbing it gingerly as he looked at Meredith in something between confusion and disgust.

"Ow!" he protested shrilly, his expression clearly conveying his disgust. "What is your problem?"

"Seriously? _Seriously_?!"

He rolled his eyes and continued to massage his arm. Across the room, Meredith sucked in a heated breath and tossed the chart and its accompanying scans onto the counter. "Sit down," she ordered tersely.

Derek's expression darkened in disbelief. "You know I'm technically your boss, right?"

She rolled her eyes and gestured wildly with both arms. "Do you see this? _This_ is me not caring!"

Satisfied that she hadn't caused permanent damage to his precious arm, Derek planted both hands on his hips and scowled pointedly. "You interrupted me," he began sternly. "I was having a conversation with Nurse Olivia."

"You were flirting," Meredith retorted angrily. "And with Syph nurse! _Ser_iously!" Meredith rolled her eyes incredulously. "Do you really want syphilis, Derek?"

He arched an eyebrow smugly, but the tension in his jaw remained. "Oh, so we're back to Derek now."

"Shut up," she grumbled.

He folded his arms belligerently and glared. "Look, if you're just going to yell at me for no apparent reason, then I'm going to…"

"We need to talk," Meredith blurted. The words seemed to surprise her at first, but as they echoed along the walls of the empty exam room, she relaxed into them, and her hands found her hips.

Derek glanced exasperatedly at the door. "Oh, _now_ you want to talk," he scoffed.

Meredith shot him a warning look. "Derek…we need this."

The finality in her tone hit him like a punch to the gut and, slowly, all the anger seeped out of him. His lips parted in protest, and his brow creased gently as his eyebrows struggled to meet over the bridge of his nose.

"Do you…are…are you ending this?"

He wasn't sure why the idea terrified him so much. Only hours earlier, he'd been entirely in favor of calling the whole thing off. Hell, he'd been engaged in an argument with Mark about the degree to which he _needed _to call the whole thing off. Now, though, faced with the reality of a permanent separation from Meredith…he felt strangely like the sky was falling; like his stomach was lined with lead and his lungs were full of water.

Cristina's words rang mockingly in his ears. _"No, seriously. I'm just asking. Because you don't seem to have much in your life that you're actually willing to fight for."_

For the first time in…well, ever…Derek began to wish he'd taken Cristina's words to heart.

"Do I...? No. No, Derek. I'm…communicating, or whatever. I'm instigating conversation."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. "Without sex and mockery?" he blurted finally, his voice belying his confusion.

"Before you try sex and mockery with Syph Nurse," Meredith countered heatedly. "Look, you want to know what Cristina and I were talking about yesterday? Fine. Okay? Fine. We were talking about you, and about me, and about the addition of conversation to the sex and mockery arrangement."

Derek's eyebrows shot up and buried themselves somewhere in his signature curls as Meredith clenched her tiny, ineffectual fists at her sides.

"I was teasing her because she told you about the earplugs—which, as we both know, is a very un-Cristina-like thing to do. I asked her if you were winning her over, then she said no and spouted a bunch of crap about how awful things were when Addison showed up."

Derek opened his mouth to protest, but the furious flash in Meredith's usually tranquil green eyes stopped him cold.

"Then she asked me if you were winning _me _over, and I told her we were taking steps. Comfortable steps. Good steps. And then she asked me if we were stepping towards Cinderella's castle or the lion's den."

Derek's head bobbed in sudden understanding. _Lions, _he thought miserably. _They were talking about lions. _The accompanying realization all but knocked the wind out of him.

_She was actually trying to be honest._

"And I told her I didn't know," Meredith continued, her voice softer. "I told her that I didn't know, but that was okay, because I _liked _the stepping."

She heaved a frustrated sigh and cast a petulant glare at the carpet, and he could feel the threat of tears burning the backs of his eyes when he realized exactly how defeated she looked.

"And I was okay. I wasn't lying. But then Alex said a bunch of crap about Lexie, and I started thinking about us, and I realized that maybe I wasn't so sure we weren't headed towards the lion's den, and…and then I wasn't okay anymore."

She took a step back and swallowed forcefully, finally allowing herself a chance to breathe.

Derek continued to stare at the floor in bewilderment as guilt wrapped its long, thing fingers around his chest cavity. When he finally spoke, his voice was a thin, cracked, broken thing that he barely recognized as his own.

"Why are you telling me all this now?"

"Why?" she repeated incredulously. _Because I was going to tell you last night, but you didn't want to know. Because seeing you with Nurse fucking Olivia made me want to put my tiny, ineffectual fists through a wall. _

_Because I don't want to be my mother. Because I'd rather have you than lose you, even if having you scares the hell out of me._

"Because…because now I have a proposal for _you_!" she concluded angrily. "Exclusivity!"

Derek's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"You want me to pour my heart out?" Meredith sneered. "Fine. I will. But you can't flirt with other women."

"I'm not…"

Meredith held up a hand to silence him. "You are," she countered. Her chest heaved deliciously as she sought to regain composure. Once she'd taken two deep breaths in succession, her eyes met his meaningfully.

"We can do sex, mockery, and conversation," she agreed softly. "We can. But I don't want you to see anybody but me. It may not be enough for you, but…I'm trying here, and…I don't want you to date anybody but me."

He gave her an incredulous look. "Meredith, when would I have time to date other women?" He paused to shake his head. "Besides," he continued, unable to keep the bitter edge out of his tone, "you're handful enough as it is."

She narrowed her eyes warningly in his direction. "Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true!"

She arched an eyebrow skeptically. "The last time you said that, you had a wife," she volleyed meaningfully.

_She has a point, _whispered the tiny voice inside of him.

"And then there was Lexie, and that oncologist, and now Syph Nurse, and…no more, Derek. It's like I told you in the locker room. If you want to see other people, if you want to break up with me, just do it. Don't tell me about it or flaunt it in my face. Just do it."

His mouth suddenly felt very, very dry. "I…" The word was raspy and hoarse and barely there, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "I don't want to break up."

Meredith gave a curt nod of approval. "Okay then." She folded her arms delicately across her chest and held her head a little bit higher, but her voice was soft when she spoke again.

"Derek…I can be the love of your life," she assured him quietly. Her eyes darted briefly to the floor. "I _want_ to be the love of your life. But…but I have to be the only one." She sucked in a breath and ducked her head ever so slightly in shame. When her eyes finally rose to meet him, the gentle sheen of tears broke his heart. "I need to know I'm not headed towards the lion's den," she concluded, her voice little more than a whisper.

His breath hitched in his throat, and he reached out for her hand in a vain attempt to bridge the sudden distance between them. "Meredith…"

"Derek, no. I need to say this, okay?" She shoved her hands in the pockets of her lab coat and stared at the floor for a moment to regain composure before meeting his gaze again.

"I tried to compete for your affections once, and I lost," she told him quietly. "I can't…" She trailed off and shook her head ever so slightly. "I won't do it again."

Her words—a painful, vulnerable admission that made him sick with guilt—hung dangerously in the silence.

He wanted to argue with her. Wanted to yell that she was wrong; that he'd never given her a reason to doubt his love for her. But as he took in the sight of her—from her heaving chest and sloped shoulders to the tightness in her jaw—he knew the argument held no weight.

They'd never really talked about Addison; not after the divorce, anyway. He had thought, perhaps naively, that his simple admission of "I chose wrong" had been sufficient in laying any insecurities to rest.

He'd thought wrong.

Derek inhaled sharply and rubbed a tired hand over his face. "So…" he cleared his throat nervously, "exclusivity, huh?"

Meredith nodded firmly. "Exclusivity."

Derek bobbed his head slowly. "Okay." He glanced up long enough to muster a small, broken smile.

Meredith's chest tightened uncomfortably. "Derek…is it really okay, or are you just saying that? Because if you want to see other people…"

He set his lips in a firm line and trained his eyes on the cabinets to her left, hating the gentle tremor in her voice. "I don't."

"Look at me," Meredith demanded shakily. When he obliged, she sucked in a tentative breath. "Are you sure?"

He frowned deeply, concealing his scar with the crease in his brow. "You don't trust me."

It wasn't a question.

He watched the myriad of emotions play across her face, and Mark's words rang poignantly in his ears. _"Sometimes people fight in different ways. Ways that aren't obvious. But Meredith…she's fighting. And if you're too tired to fight anymore, well…maybe you're not as worth it as she thought you were."_

In front of him, Meredith inhaled nervously and resumed an intense study of the floor tiles. "I…want to," she conceded finally.

The simplicity of her admission was enough to break his heart.

Immediately, Derek was consumed with an almost painful desire to prove that he was, indeed, worth it. "Do you have to work tonight?"

Meredith dipped her chin in his direction, disapproval etched across her delicate features. "Derek…"

"Do you?"

She exhaled in defeat. "No."

He could barely conceal the smile that threatened to surface. _Success_. "Would you let me take you out to dinner?"

"Derek…"

Meredith rubbed a tired hand across her face and, for the first time, Derek noticed exactly how exhausted she was.

It wasn't enough to deter him. "Seriously," he persisted. "We can leave here at eight. We'll have just finished surgery, and we'll both be hungry."

"Derek…" Meredith's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Sex, mockery, conversation, exclusivity," she recited heatedly, ticking each off on one of her fingers for emphasis. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but none of those appear to include dinner."

"Ah, yes," he agreed as the corners of his mouth curled in a genuine smile, "but remember? Rules are made to be broken."

Meredith snorted incredulously. _I _knew _that was going to come back and bite me in the ass._

"Come on," he prompted gently. "Let me take you out."

She folded her arms across her chest and arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because," he shrugged, allowing a wave of regret to smooth his brow. "You don't want me to date anybody but you, right? We've never really been on a real date."

Meredith rolled her eyes in annoyance.

Derek leaned forward and tentatively grabbed the longest fingers of her right hand. "Meredith…please."

She cast him a look of irritation and disbelief.

He stroked her knuckles with the pad of his thumb and met her gaze imploringly. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and reverent and hopeful. "Let me do this for you."

She was silent for what felt like an eternity.

"Okay," she whispered finally.

Derek's smile lit up the room.

"But Derek…nothing expensive, okay? And nothing loud. And…" She trailed off and lifted her chin defiantly. "And I'm not wearing a dress."

The corners of his eyes crinkled merrily, and he gave his eyebrows a suggestive wiggle as his smile turned naughty. "Deal," he agreed, squeezing her hand thankfully.

Meredith swallowed forcefully and tried to ignore the ball of trepidation that had settled uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to hope. She did. She just…knew better somehow.

Derek squeezed her hand again, effectively ending her apprehensive reverie.

"Come on, Meredith. Just trust me," he entreated teasingly. "Once upon a time, I knew the way to Cinderella's Castle."

His tone was light, but there was an underlying solemnity that brought tears to her eyes.

They shared a moment of silence before she sucked in a deep breath and moved to retrieve the files she'd previously tossed aside. He released her hand reluctantly, and she shuffled quietly towards the door. She placed her hand on the knob, then bit her lip nervously and glanced back over her shoulder.

"I'll see you in surgery?"

He grinned. "Absolutely."

She managed a small, tentative smile before she disappeared. As soon as the door slammed shut, Derek released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. A grin continued to tug at his cheeks as he glanced at his watch. He had less than seven hours to perform a complicated surgery and plan a date, but not even the sudden pressure could coax the smile from his face.

He wasn't tired anymore.


	8. This Time Around

**Author's Note: I've been over this chapter again, and again, and again, and I can't edit it anymore, lol. I'm sorry for the delay between chapters, but I think that, in light of recent events, you guys will like this one. It was inspired by the Hanson song of the same title, so if you're looking for an all-encompassing experience, you might want to give it a listen. **

**Also, I know I say this every time, but I wanted to send a deep, heartfelt thank-you to all of the people who've taken the time to comment on this story. I try to reply to each comment individually, and I'm a bit behind with that, but I want you all to know how much your reviews brighten my day. You are incredible, wonderful, patient people, and I appreciate every bit of your input. Thanks so much for reading!**

**THIS TIME AROUND**

Meredith sucked in a deep breath and pressed the tip of her nose to the windowpane in a vain attempt to study the passing scenery more closely. Much to her chagrin, the decrease in proximity didn't seem to matter. She still recognized nothing.

True to her word, Meredith had changed quickly after surgery and hurried into the lobby to meet Derek. She had noticed a transformation immediately upon his arrival. The dark, brooding Derek who had ranted and moaned in the exam room only hours prior had given way to a Derek that was arrogant, flirty, and familiar. He'd walked in with a broad, cocky grin that had only widened as he helped her into his car and politely dodged her incessant questions about his plans for the evening.

Initially, she had almost enjoyed the secrecy. It had been fun and romantic and a little bit like one of the movies she sometimes caught Izzie watching at three in the morning. Now, though, Meredith was perturbed. She had endured both a race down the highway and a ferry ride in near silence. And his boyish grin was cute, yes, but she was tired of his enigmatic excitement.

With a frustrated sigh, she tore her gaze from the window and arched her eyebrows expectantly at her new-old boyfriend.

"Where are we going?" she demanded for the countless time.

The corner of his mouth rose in a self-satisfied smirk. "I told you," he chuckled. "It's a surprise."

"Can't you just surprise me now?"

His eyes twinkled merrily in the dim light of the streetlamps as he gave her an incredulous sideways glance. "We're not there yet!"

"So?" she retorted. "I don't need the visual effect. Believe me, just the concept of a dinner date is surprising enough."

His eyebrows arched ever so slightly in something like offense, and Meredith silently cursed her perpetual ineloquence. "Derek…look, I'm surprised. I am. I just…want to know where we're going."

Derek shook his head in amusement and reached over to give her thigh a reassuring squeeze. "Be patient," he teased. "Good things come to those who wait."

Meredith glanced doubtfully at her frayed jeans and cable-knit sweater. " 'Good things' had better not involve a five-star restaurant with a black tie policy," she muttered warningly.

Derek dipped his chin pointedly as they stopped at a red light. "Would you relax already? Trust me. You'll like this."

"Trust you," she repeated incredulously. A combination of doubt and fear gave her words a bitter edge.

Derek heaved a sigh of resignation and met her gaze imploringly. His brow furrowed as he studied her intently, looking for something that she was both hopeful and terrified he'd find.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a thin, fragile thing that made her heart ache.

"We're not okay, are we?"

Her breath hitched uncomfortably in her throat. "What?"

"You and I," he clarified haltingly. "Us. We're not okay, are we?"

Her chest constricted in horror as his words sent her thoughts whirring. _Oh God. Oh God oh God. He's going to leave. We've haven't even been exclusive for a day, and he's already looking for reasons to run._

_Stupid, _snipped a tiny voice in the back of her head that sounded an awful lot like her mother. _You shouldn't have pushed him. You came down hard on him once today, and he stayed. Count your blessings._

She sucked in a breath and began picking nervously at the beginnings of a hole in her jeans. "Of course we're okay," she stammered softly. "Why…why wouldn't we be okay?"

"Meredith…" His eyes narrowed warningly, and Meredith shrank back into the leather upholstery.

"We're…" She trailed off and chanced a nervous glance in his direction. "We're getting there," she murmured into the dashboard. "It's just…" _Honesty. You can do honesty. You did honesty this afternoon, and it got you a date. _She cleared her throat awkwardly against the silence.

"'Trust' might be a tricky word for awhile," she concluded apologetically.

His hand brushed her shoulder in a gentle caress, and the muscles relaxed beneath his touch. When he spoke, his voice was as soft and warm as his palm on her tricep.

"Okay."

She looked up in surprise and released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Okay?" she repeated incredulously.

"Okay." His smile was sad, but the familiar sparkle in his eyes warmed her very soul. He wrapped his fingers around her knee and gave her a reassuring pat before his stray hand returned to the steering wheel.

They continued to drive in silence. It wasn't until the tranquility was broken by the telltale crunch of gravel under the tires that Meredith began to relax in earnest. When the headlights finally illuminated the silver sheen of Derek's trailer in the distance, she heaved a sigh of relief and smiled warmly.

He cut the engine with a satisfied grin, and Meredith allowed a tiny, incredulous chuckle to escape. "You brought me to the trailer?"

He arched a challenging eyebrow. "You were expecting something else?"

Meredith's cheeks flushed crimson. "N-no…"

Her conditions—thought perhaps irrational—had been honestly established. She hadn't wanted to spend the evening playing polite society with Derek. After watching McDreamy with Syph Nurse, she had been loath to scrounge up any appetite at all, let alone one that involved expensive restaurants and couture to match. Between Alex's persistence and Derek's insolence, the day had felt a little bit like riding a bad roller coaster. She had wanted—had _needed—_an evening of silence.

But then she had cornered Derek in an exam room, and he'd spouted something wonderful about Cinderella's castle, and she'd spent the entire surgery dreaming up situations in which he'd wine her and dine her in the name of passion and penance.

With a determined exhale, she swallowed her discontent and forced a small, appreciative smile.

"No," she insisted, gifting him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "This is fine. You know I love the trailer. It's very…you."

Derek laughed. Moonlight glinted off his teeth as his lips stretched in a wide smile. He reached out and reverently stroked her hair. For a moment, his brow knitted in something that looked an awful lot like gratitude, but the look was gone as quickly as it came.

He tilted his head to the side and winked impishly. "Wait there, okay? I'll come get you."

He slid out gracefully and glided around to her side of the car, opening her door with an exaggerated flourish.

"Your evening of magic awaits," he teased lightly.

"Trout in the trailer?" Meredith guessed with good humor.

"Mm," he mused, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Not exactly. I've got to grab a few things." The corner of his lips curled in a smirk. "I'll be right back."

Meredith inclined her head in surprise. "You're not going to invite me in?"

"It's a surprise!" Derek insisted, tossing a broad grin over his shoulder. "I'll be right out. Take some time to enjoy the scenery."

Meredith rolled her eyes in annoyance as her boyfriend vanished through the steel door of his mobile home. _Two million dollars a year, _she thought incredulously. _Two million dollars a year, and he lives in a trailer._

She was almost entirely convinced that she had fallen in love with him because of the trailer. The thought of a successful neurosurgeon living alone in a van in the woods made Meredith believe that simplicity still existed—and that there was, indeed, still beauty in it.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply and, for a moment, Alex's voice and the mingling of Derek's laughter with Olivia's were lost in the rush of cold air that seized her lungs.

"It's nice out here, isn't it?" His voice was whisper-soft, but there was a smile in it.

"Yeah," she breathed into the newfound darkness. "Kind of perfect, actually."

"So the date isn't a total bust, then?"

"Mm," she murmured, lifting her eyelids lazily. "That remains to be seen."

She spun slowly in the direction of his voice, and her eyes widened considerably when she saw that he'd acquired two blankets and a large plastic bag that proudly proclaimed **JaK's Grill **in bright, bold letters since his departure.

"You got food," she blurted incredulously.

The corners of Derek's mouth curved in an amused, arrogant smirk. "I did," he agreed, pursing his lips slightly to keep his laughter at bay.

"But…but…we just got out of surgery," Meredith stammered. Her brow creased in confusion. "When did you have time to get food?"

"Ah," he grinned. "That's my secret." In a gesture that recalled Meredith's first encounter with the trailer, he stretched his free hand towards her invitingly and gave his eyebrows a suggestive wiggle. "Shall we?"

She reluctantly took his hand and fell into step beside him as they trudged towards the trailer. When they reached the porch, she raised her right leg to scale the steps, but Derek halted her with a gentle tug.

"We're not eating at the trailer tonight," he murmured cryptically as he guided her around the back.

The crease in her brow deepened. "We're not?" she repeated haltingly. "But…I like the trailer."

The protest echoed feebly in the darkness, bringing a soft smile to Derek's rugged features. "I'm glad," he replied serenely. "But we eat at the trailer all the time, and tonight is supposed to be special."

"Because it's a date?" Meredith chuckled, her voice belying her disbelief.

"No," Derek chided lightly, guiding her over a small rock formation. "Tonight marks the beginning of our journey towards Cinderella's castle."

Meredith's cheeks flushed crimson as Derek's sentimental words mingled with the rhythmic chirping of crickets and cicadas. "Derek…"

"Meredith," he volleyed, his eyes glittering in amusement.

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Look, you don't have to do this. Exclusivity is fine. It doesn't…we don't…" She sucked in a breath and swallowed forcefully. "We don't have to do the thing," she managed finally.

His brow furrowed. "The thing?" he repeated, his voice belying his amusement.

"The romantic thing," she clarified. Her eyes narrowed nervously as her teeth found her lower lip. "I mean, I yelled, and you yelled, but…we…we're fine. Really. I…I don't need the romance. You don't have to try and be…debonair, or whatever." She glanced doubtfully at the muddy ground beneath her feet and sighed heavily.

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Cinderella's castle, remember?" he chided lightly. "Last time I checked, 'debonair' was definitely part of the package."

As they walked, the mud made slurping, sucking sounds that made Meredith's stomach churn with the distinct feeling that he was mocking her.

They continued in silence. Derek led her into a small, wooded area where owls hooted and a smattering of pine needles kept the mud at bay. Soon, she could see nothing but the beam of Derek's penlight as he navigated the trees.

A twig snapped beneath her feet, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in protest.

"Derek," she whimpered softly, "seriously. It's dark. Really dark. Are you sure you know where we're going?"

"Yes." He let go of her hand and snaked an arm around her shoulders instead, pulling her tightly to his side.

She squirmed uncomfortably as his fingers kneaded her deltoid. "Derek."

He whirled around suddenly and gripped her shoulder. "Close your eyes."

"What?" Meredith sputtered. "You cannot be serious!"

"Come on," he insisted. "Please? I didn't have time to find a blindfold."

Meredith's eyes widened to the size of golf balls as her eyebrows buried themselves in her hairline. "Blindfold?!" Her eyes darted briefly down to her uncomfortable leopard-print flats. _Oh God…_

"For the surprise!" he hissed, shooting her a look of incredulous indignation. "Jesus, Mere. Just tr…"

He stopped mid-word and sighed. He inhaled. He exhaled. He pursed his lips and swallowed.

"Please," he amended with forced gentility. "_Please_ close your eyes."

She inhaled sharply at the determined glint in his eyes. Reluctantly, her eyelids fluttered to a close.

His eyelashes tickled her temple as his lips brushed her cheek in a chaste kiss. "Thank you."

His arm cushioned her shoulders again. As he led her gently forward, she became acutely aware of little things. The muted roar of an engine in the distance. The muffled crunch of pinecones beneath her feet. The strong scent of Derek's aftershave.

"We're here," he murmured softly beside her. "Stand still for a second, okay? I'm almost done."

She heard soft clicking sounds behind her before a dull roar muted everything.

"Okay," he called from her left. "You can open them now!"

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she gasped.

The entire city of Seattle was spread out like a blanket of Christmas lights before her.

"Oh." The word was naught but an exhale, a breathless, awestruck murmur that left Derek feeling strangely warm. With a small smile of satisfaction, he closed the distance between them.

"Oh, Derek," she breathed, reaching blindly for the hand that had once more found her shoulder. "It's…beautiful."

"Mm." The purr caused his chest to vibrate gently against her. "Turn around."

Reluctantly, she spun away from him and turned to face the direction from whence they'd come. Immediately, her breath hitched in her throat. She gave yet another gentle gasp. "Oh, Derek…"

Two strategically placed torches illuminated a deep purple blanket on which an elaborate array of plastic dishes had been spread. Her eyes darted incredulously from the soft cream of the garlic mashed potatoes to the bright green of the broccoli. Two slices of cheesecake sat off to the side, drenched deliciously in a juicy blend of strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries. Light glinted off the rims of two wine glasses, and Meredith followed their sheen to the dinner plates on either side of the blanket that each boasted a small dinner salad and a large, glistening steak.

"_Someone out there has a steak with your name on it."_

Tears immediately sprang to her eyes, blurring the scene before her into a mess of muted colors.

"See?" he murmured softly. "It wasn't expensive, it's not loud, and you don't have to wear a dress."

A lump formed at the base of her throat as he wrapped his arms gingerly around her. She was touched that he had even remembered her heated requests. The thought that he had heeded them left her breathless.

"It's perfect," she whispered.

"Well…it's not Cinderella's castle," he conceded gently, "but purple IS the color of royalty."

The implications of his statement hit her like a punch to the stomach. When she tried to inhale, her chest tightened painfully.

_He planned this whole thing. All of it. Down to the color of the freaking blanket. _

Guilt pricked the tiny balloon of joy inside of her, and she hissed out a breath as though she had deflated.

"Derek," she murmured softly. Brokenly. "You…you didn't have to go to all this trouble."

For just a moment, his heart leapt into his throat. He tried to tighten his hold on her, but his limbs felt clumsy and disconnected. He was floundering. Helpless.

He knew it was extravagant. He did. He knew it was clichéd and outdated and far beyond anything upon which they had previously agreed, but…he had just wanted to make her happy. Just once, he had wanted to see her smile because of something he had done. Something he had done right.

She wasn't smiling. In fact, she seemed strangely defeated.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. _In. Out._

He could feel her heart racing beneath his palm. Her entire body jerked softly as she swallowed.

"I mean, it's beautiful," she blurted softly. "It's beautiful and amazing and…but…but I'm just…it's just…me," she concluded haltingly. "It's just me, and you didn't have to…"

Her lips were still moving, but her words were lost in the dull roar of blood rushing past his ears.

_She doesn't think she's worth it._

He exhaled with a deafening _whoosh _of relief.

"Stop," he instructed. Begged, really. He walked around and took each of her small hands in his, tugging on them gently until she met his gaze.

"But…I mean it," she protested weakly. Her teeth raked nervously across her lower lip. "You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," he said simply.

Her eyes darted back to the dinner display in disbelief. "But…"

"Meredith." She stilled immediately, and he gifted her with a small, tentative smile. "You're not the only one with something to prove."

"Oh." Her eyebrows leapt hopefully, and she surveyed the romantic scene before her with newfound appreciation. She released one of his hands to take a step forward, and his shoulders sagged with relief.

Her eyes glittered eagerly in the lamplight as she knelt down. When his knees hit the ground beside her, she tossed him a smile that left him breathless.

_We're going to be okay, _he realized incredulously.

"So purple means royalty, huh?" Her voice shook with barely concealed amusement.

"Cinderella's castle," he offered with a feeble smile.

Her grin was blinding as she gave her head an incredulous shake. "Unbelievable."

She giggled delightedly into the blanket, and his heart ached regretfully with the weight of unspoken apologies.

"I was a jerk last night," he told her seriously. "I needed to make up for it."

Meredith glanced over her shoulder and knit her brow in concern. "Derek…no. You weren't a jerk last night. You were just…trying to make conversation," she finished with a penitent smile.

His brow smoothed somberly. "Yes," he agreed, his tone laden with remorse, "but so were you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cristina ran a frustrated hand through her hair and rolled her eyes in annoyance as she stomped up the copper-colored dirt path to a pair of wooden steps that were already too familiar. She was seconds away from scaling them when the metallic _creak _of the trailer door interrupted her muttering.

She glanced up into a pair of smug blue eyes.

"Dr. Yang," he greeted with a characteristic smirk.

"Dr. Sloan?" she hissed incredulously. "What are _you_ doing here?"

The left corner of his mouth curled in arrogant amusement. "I was asked—well, ordered, really—to pick up dinner for the lovebirds." He chuckled wryly. "Derek might hate me, but he still needs my help with the ladies." The comment ended in an off-color wink.

Cristina pursed her lips to keep from rolling her eyes. "I'm sure," she muttered disdainfully.

His brow furrowed in affronted confusion. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Kicking Shepherd's ass," Cristina grumbled. "Apparently, Meredith walked out on a conversation last night and McDumbass didn't go after her. It's like he doesn't get that, sometimes, you actually have to _fight_ for the things that you want."

Mark's eyebrows rose in appreciation. "I was telling him the same thing this morning."

Cristina's brow furrowed doubtfully. "You were?"

"What," Mark demanded, "you think I can't give sound relationship advice?" He quirked an eyebrow expectantly as the trailer door slammed shut. "This may surprise you, Yang, but I'm not just a pretty face."

"Right," Cristina groaned, "you're a cock that cares. A penis with needs."

"Hey! I have a human side!"

She glanced up, expecting to earn at least a wink for her trouble. She was quite surprised to find that he actually looked offended.

"Oh, the side that slept with your best friend's wife?" she snapped. "Or is it the side that used the same pick-up line to hit on every nurse on the surgical floor?"

"Hey." The smirk returned, but it was noticeably tight around the edges. "I'll have you know that I also make routine visits to the oncology floor."

Cristina snorted incredulously. "Is that your excuse for your lack of social skills? A tumor in your frontal lobe?"

He folded his arms and dipped his chin pointedly. "It's certainly a better excuse than the stick up your ass," he grunted.

The corners of her mouth quirked in the faintest hint of a smile. She'd officially been had.

"So," she amended, "you brought dinner for Meredith and McDreamy?"

"Yup," he affirmed, grinning slightly at her poor segue. "Derek wanted to take her on a real date, but Meredith refused to participate in anything involving loud, expensive restaurants or a dress."

Cristina's resulting smirk reeked of pride"And McDreamy obeyed? I'm almost impressed."

"He was pretty adamant amount following her wishes," Mark admitted with a laugh. "Something about how he's trying to prove that he's worth fighting for."

"You mean he's actually trying to _earn_ the unconditional adoration she gives him?" Cristina muttered bitterly. "I'm shocked. What happened? Did he perform his own brain transplant?"

"Nah," Mark sighed. "He was moping on the elevator this morning, so I kicked his ass."

Her eyes swept his figure as though she was seeing him for the first time, and her eyebrows rose in appreciation. "Impressive," she murmured in approval.

"Not necessarily," Mark returned, narrowing his eyes pointedly. "Word on the street was that Meredith initiated a pretty important conversation this afternoon. Any idea where she got the nerve to do that?"

Christina arched an eyebrow challengingly. "What? Meredith talks. She talks all the time. Seriously, have you ever spent any amount of time with that girl? She rambles more than my mother."

His mouth quirked in amusement as he returned her once-over. "Exactly. She rambles. She never has important conversations." He leaned forward pointedly. "Especially not with Derek."

"It's not like McDreamy lends himself to productive conversations," Cristina snorted. "He's too busy perfecting his martyr act."

"Martyr Act?" Mark repeated with a poorly concealed grin.

Cristina waved an irritated hand. "Yeah. You know…" She trailed off, slumped her shoulders forward, and adopted a forlorn look of longing that was eerily reminiscent of Derek Shepherd. "Oh," she sighed, deepening her voice. "Poor me. My life is so difficult. Multiple kick-ass women are in love with me." She rolled her eyes and straightened. "Martyr act," she supplied pointedly.

Mark burst into gruff, hearty guffaws. When he'd recovered slightly, he shook his head in amusement and clapped Cristina soundly on the back. Her eyes widened slightly as she stumbled forward.

"I like you, Yang," he declared with a grin.

"Seriously?" She dipped her chin doubtfully as a hand found her hip. "I'm making fun of your friend."

"Yeah." He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head meaningfully towards her. "But you wouldn't be here if you didn't care."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Meredith gazed up at the stars and allowed herself a tiny smile of contentment. It had been a wonderful evening. They had fallen back into the usual pattern of clever conversation and flirty repartee over dinner, and every bite of her inexpensive steak and potatoes had been delicious because of it. She'd been reluctant to finish her last bite of cheesecake for fear that the evening would end, but Derek had surprised her yet again by tucking their dirty plastic dishes back into the large plastic sack and sprawling out on the picnic blanket. He'd propped his head up on the second blanket before turning to her with an expectant grin. "Well," he'd mused, his eyes glittering merrily in the light of the torches, "aren't you going to join me?"

No further invitation had been necessary. She'd spent the past fifteen minutes sewn to his side, basking in the warmth of the torchlight and the familiar feeling of his arm around her shoulder and his chest beneath her cheek.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, expecting a lungful of the aftershave she loved so much. She got no such thing.

"Derek?"

"Mere?"

Her brow creased in confusion. "It smells like lavender."

"Mm," he murmured, a smile softening the thick, sleepy syllable. "It does."

She gave him a gentle nudge. "_Why _does it smell like lavender?"

He snuffled slightly and rubbed his face with the hand that wasn't warming her shoulder. "It's the torches," he slurred. "They're scented."

Meredith propped herself up on one elbow and arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "You got scented torches?" Her voice trembled with barely concealed amusement.

He opened one eye and leveled her with a playful glare. "I have a thing for lavender," he mumbled defensively.

Meredith tried in vain to hide the smile that was threatening to surface. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he affirmed, squeezing her slightly.

"Is that why you like my conditioner?"

His chest rose and fell beside her as he heaved a sigh. His other eye opened, and his brow smoothed meaningfully as he turned to face her. The left corner of his mouth curled in a sheepish half-smile.

"I have a thing for lavender because of your conditioner," he admitted.

A tiny, involuntary giggle bubbled forth. "You're kidding."

He reached over with his free hand and gently fingered a lock of her long, honey blonde hair. He gave her another reassuring squeeze and skated his fingers down her arm, eventually lacing them through the fingers of her free hand. Her palm came to rest of his stomach, where the taut muscles rose and fell rhythmically.

"I'm definitely not kidding," he confessed with a wry chuckle. "When you told me about the conditioner, after the code black incident, I went to some aromatherapy shop and bought a ridiculous number of lavender candles. I burned them in the trailer for weeks afterward."

"With Addison there?" Meredith gasped. Her small frame shifted as Derek shrugged beneath her.

"She liked them, actually," he mused in a tone laced with irony. "Said they got rid of the trout smell." He chuckled hollowly. "She might've asked me about it once or twice, but I can't remember what I gave as an explanation."

Meredith's eyes widened in alarm. "Derek!" she admonished, swatting him lightly. "I worked with Addison! Weren't you worried that she'd make the connection?"

When he turned his head to face her, the depth of sadness in his expression shocked her to the very core.

"I didn't care," he admitted softly. "I needed you near me."

His broken smile stole her breath.

"Derek…"

He sighed and lifted his gaze to the stars. "I regret what I did to her. I do. She loved me, and I took advantage. Most days, I don't even know why. It hurt everyone involved. Her, me…you." He shook his head gently. "I should have let her go," he concluded quietly. "She hated it here. Everything about it—the fish, the grass, the bugs, the wildlife, the rain, the trailer. Especially the trailer." His abdomen jerked beneath her as he allowed himself a chuckle. "God, she hated the trailer…"

Meredith inhaled sharply and braced herself for the twinge of guilt that came whenever she thought of Addison.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Her hand sank against his stomach as he exhaled. "Sure."

"Why?"

He sucked in a painful breath, and Meredith immediately backpedaled.

"I mean…why get a trailer?"

His relief was palpable as he shot her a flirtatious grin. "Why? You don't think it suits me?"

"I do!" she replied hurriedly. "It's just…you lived in a fancy brownstone overlooking Central Park. Izzie said you had paisley Egyptian cotton sheets. And I've seen your suits," she added hastily. "I don't know much about clothes, but I know they're…nice."

"They might be," he agreed with a shrug. "I wouldn't know. Addi did the shopping."

Meredith's eyebrows struggled to meet above her nose. "But…it was your life too. And your sister Nancy said…"

Derek rolled his eyes and tugged her more closely to him. "Nancy and Addison are cut from the same cloth," he muttered tersely. "They're both very successful doctors, and they enjoy the fast-paced life of high society. That's not who I am."

"Not now," Meredith finished expectantly.

"Not ever," Derek countered firmly. He released her fingers for a moment and raked a hand through his disheveled curls. "The brownstone, the house in the Hamptons, the fancy sheets…none of it was in any way representative of who I am. It was the life Addison wanted, and I…I wanted her to be happy."

Meredith dipped her chin expectantly. "Surely that wasn't all you wanted."

His eyes sparkled appreciatively as he smiled ironically down at her. "Mm," he mused sardonically. "It was at the time. I didn't start thinking about what I wanted until I came out here."

She lay frozen at his side, unwilling to move or breathe for fear that he'd stop sharing.

They'd never talked like this before. They'd had post-coital conversations in which meaningful subject were addressed and immediately dismissed, but they'd never attempted longwinded honesty.

Eventually, the silence felt suffocating, and she recognized the need to prompt him.

"So…what do you want?"

A slow, sated smile lit his rugged features as he closed his eyes and inhaled.

"This," he whispered breathlessly. "Just this." His eyes fluttered open, and the look he gave her sent a river of warmth flowing through her veins. "I love Seattle," he told her honestly. "I love being able to get up and fish at three in the morning. I love being able to lie on my back in the grass at night and see stars. And I love the trailer."

She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder and snuggled into his side. "Mm," she murmured contentedly, "me too."

"I'm glad." His deep, sleep-thick chuckle caused his chest to vibrate against her cheek. "You know, when I first brought you here, I was scared to death."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she lifted her head slightly to give him an incredulous stare. "Really?"

"Absolutely," he laughed. "You were this fun, flirty girl living in a house with a bunch of friends, and we had a relationship based solely on sex and accidental sleepovers, but you always looked at me with this…light in your eyes." His smile was curious, and he squinted as though he could see the right words just over the curve of her shoulder and was trying to make them out. "Admiration," he concluded finally. "I was an enigma to you. A sexy, charming, older enigma. I'm not sure if it was because I was your boss, but you always looked at me like you saw something special. Something I didn't see." He chuckled brokenly and gave her shoulder a pointed squeeze. "That morning, when you kept teasing me about my house…I was petrified. You didn't know me, but I knew me. I knew I was just this…guy. This guy who lived in a trailer because his wife had cheated on him with his best friend." He tossed her a smirk, but the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. "I was afraid that you'd see the trailer and stop looking at me like I was something special."

It was the first time Meredith had ever seen Derek's vulnerability so clearly. She was mesmerized.

"And did I?" she asked breathlessly.

His smirk dimmed to something more solemn and bittersweet.

"No," he admitted, his voice naught but a whisper. "You…" He cleared his throat, scrubbed his face, and emitted a hollow chuckle that made her heart ache. "You just stood there with this confused, uncertain smile and let me lead you through the woods. And after I gave you that God-awful speech about the book and the ice cream, you gave me the cutest little grin…"

He sucked in a breath, suddenly all too aware of the ferocity with which his heart was beating against his ribcage.

"I knew then," he confessed softly. "I knew then that you were someone special, that this thing between us was bigger than a fling or an extended one night stand. Because the truth is that this guy—the guy who fishes at three in the morning and stuff the trailer closet full of fleece and flannel—this is the guy I think I would've become a long time ago had my father been alive." His eyes wandered towards her, big and blue and meaningfully bright. "And you get it."

He heaved a sigh and reached out to caress her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You asked me why I got a trailer," he concluded reverently. "I got it because…Addison and Mark…it made me realize that nothing is permanent. I needed something to which I wouldn't become attached. Something that wouldn't leave me rooted somewhere. I think I was living in terror of having the rug ripped out from under me again." He chuckled sadly. "Besides, you said it yourself. My life with Addison was filled with excess. I wanted something simple."

She squeezed him gently as his words echoed, filling the spaces between the chirps of the crickets and the rhythmic calls of an owl in the distance. She inhaled deeply and, among the overwhelming scent of lavender, she could detect faint traces of his familiar aftershave.

In that moment, enveloped in the warmth created by the torches and the soft feel of his sweater against her cheek, she realized how badly she wanted to be his something simple.

That afternoon had been hard. Extremely hard. Telling Derek that she wanted exclusivity had felt like getting naked in the worst kind of way. Letting the words go, giving them breath—it had actually hurt. But now, lying in his arms as nature stilled around them, the hurt didn't seem to matter so much. The curses of the day—Alex's persistent pleas and the sounds of Nurse Olivia's laughter as it mingled with Derek's—suddenly seemed small. Surmountable.

She closed her eyes and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. She was mere seconds away from sleep when he shifted beneath her and heaved a sigh.

"Mere?"

"Mm?"

He raked a bewildered hand through his signature curls. "Look, I know what we said. About the sex and mockery, I mean. I know that there's an arrangement, and I know that it works most of the time, but…"

Meredith tensed fearfully. _Oh, God. He wants to have sex. We're lying here in the middle of his backyard thing, tangled up on a blanket in the grass and staring at the stars and talking—really, finally talking—and he wants to have sex._

She bit her lip to keep from protesting and heaved a defeated sigh. "But what?" she murmured uncertainly.

"Can we…" Derek trailed off and cleared his throat nervously. "Can we not have sex tonight?"

Meredith's entire body sagged with relief.

"Not that you don't look beautiful, and not that I wouldn't be interested—because you do, and I would be, but…just…this is nice, right? This is nice, and it's a date, and we keep mentioning Cinderella, and…"

She couldn't conceal the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

_He's happy here. With me. Without the sex._

"I mean, we could have sex. If you wanted to. I just…"

She bit her lower lip to keep from giggling. "Derek."

She sank slightly as his chest deflated. "What?"

"You're rambling," she murmured gently. "Stop."

His breath hitched uncertainly in his throat. "Stop?"

"Stop," she affirmed. "No sex would be…perfect."

He jerked in surprise. "Really?" he demanded, craning his neck to get a better look at her expression.

"Really," she assured him with a wide, satisfied smile.

He exhaled with a relieved _whoosh. _"Good. That's good." He sighed and began stroking her hair with a soft, gentle hand.

"You know, I think you had it right in the exam room," he confessed quietly after a brief moment of silence. "Sometimes, we just need to talk."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She was sore. Tired. She had a crick in her neck. When she scaled the steps to her front door, every single one of her limbs cried out in protest with sharp aches and pains.

It didn't matter. Nothing could dampen her mood. She'd woken up in Derek's arms, surrounded by chirping birds and the gentle, lingering scent of lavender.

It had been an amazing evening.

"You're just now getting home?"

Meredith jumped at the unexpected company. When she recognized Alex's snicker behind her, she tossed him a glare over her shoulder and continued to jiggle the key in the lock. "I fell asleep in Derek's backyard," she admitted as the door creaked open. "What's your excuse?"

Alex shrugged and shut the door. "I fell asleep in Lexie's bed."

Meredith whirled around, eyes wide. "Lexie's bed at Thatcher's house?" She wasn't sure if she was horrified or impressed.

"Yup."

"Oh." She paused for a moment, watching the way the light glinted off his leather jacket as he shrugged out of it. "What's that like?"

"Pink," Alex grumbled. "Lots of pink." He shuddered involuntarily and cast an expectant look over his shoulder. "How was Shepherd's backyard?"

A sated smile bloomed on her tired features. "Lavender. Lots of lavender."

Alex grimaced. "Nice to know I wasn't the only one surrounded by chick colors," he muttered disdainfully.

"Yeah…" Meredith trailed off for a moment and allowed herself to remember the pale smattering of stars and the deep, low rumble of Derek's sleep-thick voice in her ear.

"_I wanted something simple."_

She cleared her throat nervously and followed Alex into the kitchen. "You know," she began uncertainly, "I could help you brave the pink tonight. I mean, if you want me to."

His eyebrows rose in surprise as he whirled around to meet her gaze. "Yeah?"

The lilt of excitement in his voice was almost enough to calm her racing nerves. _You can do this. The family thing. You can figure it out. _"Yeah."

The right corner of his mouth curved upward in an appreciative half-smile. "Great. I mean…I have to work tonight, so I'll be late, but…I could give you the address," he offered with a hopeful shrug.

Meredith swallowed, inhaled, and forced a small smile. "That'd be fine," she replied with more conviction than she felt.

She moved towards the coffee machine and flicked the switch. The machine immediately gurgled to life, and as she reached up to grab two mugs, she could feel her friend's eyes on her.

A stool scraped across the floor. When she turned around, Alex was slumped over the counter, staring at her curiously. Their fingers brushed as she handed him a mug, but his gaze never wavered.

"What changed your mind?" he asked finally.

She shrugged nonchalantly at the spider burners. "I was thinking."

"And?"

She heaved a sigh. "I don't like Lexie. At all. But…"

Alex dipped his chin expectantly to meet her gaze. "But?"

"But she deserves better than the lion's den."

He arched an eyebrow and studied her suspiciously as he inhaled a piece of toast. "That must've been one hell of a date," he muttered finally.

"Yeah," Meredith agreed, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "It was."


	9. Precious Illusions

**Author's Note: Hi, remember me? I was writing this story once, and…**

**Seriously, I'm so sorry it's taken so long to get this up. For whatever reason, this chapter proved incredibly difficult to write (made more difficult by the fact that this marks the first big medical case I've ever written). I rewrote each of these conversations three or four times, cutting and pasting and moving, before I was even remotely satisfied. It's done, though. And for that, you can thank greysaddict522 and her wonderful Writing Boot Camp idea.  You should also check out her story, "Gravity," which is supposed to be finished by the end of the week.**

**Thank you all SO much for the incredibly sweet, supportive comments about the last chapter. I'm a bit behind on replies because I wanted to get this up, but your encouraging words mean the world, and I love the insight you guys provide. Thanks for sticking with me. I always love to hear what y'all have to say! **

**And finally…if you ever want to know what I'm up to or where a chapter stands, my LJ account is a pretty safe bet. You can hunt me down and kick my butt there. (It's linked through "Homepage" on my profile.) Happy reading!**

**PRECIOUS ILLUSIONS**

He was sore. Tired. He had a crick in his neck. When he lifted his briefcase and ambled onto the waiting elevator, every single one of his limbs cried out in protest with sharp aches and pains.

It didn't matter. Nothing could wipe the smile from his face. He'd awoken to the gentle, lingering scent of lavender and the familiar feeling of Meredith's tiny frame in his arms. Her hasty exit hadn't left him with much of a chance to bask in the afterglow of a successful date and an unexpected sleepover, but they'd stumbled quickly towards the trailer in sleepy, companionable silence, and she'd given him a bruising kiss of gratitude before speeding off in his car.

Asking Richard for a ride to the hospital had taken a significant chunk out of his dignity, but Meredith's palpable glee had been more than adequate compensation. For the first time in a long time, she had seemed really, truly happy, and he loved that he could claim responsibility for her good mood.

"You know, I hear these things only move if you actually press a button."

Derek narrowed his eyes warningly in his friend's direction as the plastic surgeon strode onto the elevator. "Shut up," he mumbled through his smile as he reached forward and pressed the button for the third floor.

"Shut up?" Mark repeated doubtfully. "I'm guessing the date went well, then."

"What makes you say that?"

"Aside from the huge-ass grin on your face? The fact that you couldn't come up with a wittier retort."

"Mm," Derek mused. He pursed his lips in a vain attempt to keep his smile at bay, but no amount of perseverance could stop the corners of his mouth from curling.

"Well?" Mark demanded expectantly. "What happened?"

Derek chuckled lightly as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nothing."

Mark gave a sideways glance of disbelief. "Bullshit," he retorted. "Come on, man! I got your food. I got your blanket. Hell, I even braved Bed, Bath, and Beyond to get giant, lavender-scented Tiki torches for your sorry ass."

Derek leaned forward doubtfully. "Don't give me that," he chided with a smirk. "I'm sure you got somebody's number."

"Yeah, well…that's not the point." Mark arched a threatening eyebrow. "You owe me details."

Derek's smile broadened impishly, his blue eyes sparkling in the neon light. "What do you want to know?"

Mark wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Did you do it on the purple blanket?"

Derek's lips twitched. "No."

Mark smirked wickedly into his coffee. "Liar."

Derek shook his head in amusement. "No, I'm serious." His smile dimmed nostalgically as he recalled the way Meredith's tiny arms had gripped his waist, even in slumber. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her pressed against him, warming the empty spaces in his chest.

He sighed contentedly. "Last night…last night wasn't about sex. In fact, last night was largely about proving to Meredith that this thing between us is about much more than sex."

"Right…" Mark rolled his eyes, took a sip of coffee, and cleared his throat gruffly. "Well, did you find the way to Jasmine's palace or whatever?"

"Cinderella's castle," Derek corrected with a wry smile, "and yes. Well, I think so," he amended with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Mark shot his friend a look of obvious disdain. "You think so?"

Derek's grin returned full force as he recalled the giddy smile with which Meredith had regarded his picnic set-up. "She seemed to enjoy herself," he conceded cryptically.

"I bet she did."

Derek narrowed his eyes warningly at his friend's suggestive tone. "Mark…"

Mark rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Relax. I'm kidding. I get it, okay? Last night wasn't about sex."

"It wasn't," Derek insisted proudly. "It was about romance."

"And Jasmine's palace."

"Cinderella's castle," Derek corrected, his brow furrowing gently in irritation.

"Whatever," Mark muttered teasingly. "Jasmine's hotter."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Right. But Cinderella is…it's a sweeter story. The girl had nothing. She had a mother who hated her and sisters who treated her like garbage, and…"

"And then she met the prince, and he gave her everything," Mark finished with a mocking lilt in his tone.

"Exactly."

"He rescued her from her sad, pathetic little life…"

Derek's frown deepened, and his lips parted in frustration as he glared at Mark. "I don't think I'd go _that_ far."

Mark took another sip of coffee and arched a skeptical eyebrow. "You wouldn't?" he challenged pointedly.

The words hung dangerously in the air.

Derek's bright blue eyes narrowed to angry slits. "Look," he began darkly, "I know where you're going with this, and you're wrong, okay? I'm not trying to rescue Meredith. I just…she deserves better than she's gotten her whole life. She deserves a Prince Charming."

"And you're going to give it to her," Mark finished doubtfully.

Derek's brow creased in offense. "Yes!"

Both men flinched as Derek's voice ricocheted painfully off the walls of the elevator.

"Derek," Mark entreated, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "I'm not trying to be a stick in the mud, okay? Believe me, no one wants this thing to work more than I do. But if I know Meredith…"

"Which you don't," Derek interjected angrily.

"_If I know Meredith_," Mark repeated pointedly, "she's not going to take kindly to being rescued." He thought of Meredith, high on morphine and loudly declaring her upgrade from "dirty mistress" to "adulterous whore," and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. "I mean, I agree that she's been dealt a pretty shitty hand in the grand scheme of things, and she seems kind of small when she's wandering the halls of the hospital, but…she can handle herself, you know?"

"She's a fighter," Derek agreed grudgingly, "but…she gets tired sometimes."

"Everyone gets tired sometimes," Mark pointed out with a sigh. "Hell, you were tired yesterday."

"Yesterday_,_ I didn't realize that I wasn't the only one fighting," Derek bit out through gritted teeth. "_Yesterday_, I didn't know I had something to prove."

"So, what? Now you're on some misguided mission to be Superman to her Lois Lane?"

"I want to make her feel like she deserves good things," Derek snapped. "Last night, when we finally got to the picnic spread, she freaked out because she thought I'd gone to more trouble than she deserved." He inhaled sharply and expelled a heavy sigh. "That's not right, Mark," he concluded in a softer tone.

"No," Mark agreed, "it's not. But Derek…"

"What?"

"This thing you're doing for Meredith? This thing where you buy lavender-scented torches and steak dinners and feed her cute little lines about Cinderella or whatever? It has to be because you love her. It can't be because you have some deep-seated urge to be the good guy."

Derek's lips parted ever so slightly as his brow furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong with being the good guy?"

Mark leaned forward incredulously. "Seriously? Derek, you stayed with Addison because you wanted to be the good guy." He shook his head slowly and willed himself to stay calm and rational enough to drive his point home. "You stayed with Addison because it was the 'right' thing to do. Not because you loved her, but because you wanted to be the good guy."

Derek swallowed forcefully. "Mark…"

Mark rolled his eyes skyward. _So much for calm and rational. _"No, man! You did it, okay? You stayed. You stayed, and now Addison's in L.A. with Sam and Naomi and I'm fetching Tiki torches for you and your girlfriend. And you and Meredith have put each other through hell, Derek, but you're staying again."

"It's different this time," Derek insisted. "I wasn't in love with Addi anymore, Mark."

"I know," Mark sighed. _But I was._

For a long, painful moment, both men stood in uncomfortable silence.

"Look," Mark said finally, "all I'm saying is this. _Cinderella _ended with the ride into the sunset, okay? She got in her white dress, and they got on the horse and rode off to the castle, and then the credits started rolling."

"What's your point?"

"I can pretty much guarantee you that the second they got inside those doors, Cinderella kicked off her glass slippers, sat down on the floor, and started scrubbing."

Derek's frown deepened significantly. "Again…what's your point?"

"You can take her out and romance her all you want but, at the end of the day, she's still going to be Meredith. All those things about her that made you miserable are still going to be there. And you just…need to be prepared to deal with that. 'Cause Meredith's tough, but so was Addison, and you broke her. You broke Addison with your need to be the good guy." Mark drained his coffee dup and raked his fingers through his hair. "I can't watch you break Meredith."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You never came home last night," Izzie remarked sympathetically as her locker door swung open. "Did it not work out with the DBS candidate?"

Meredith glanced up in confusion. "What?"

"The surgery," Izzie clarified. "With Dr. Shepherd. Did it not go well?"

A delicate crease formed on Meredith's brow. "No, it went fine. The stimulation actually reduced the tremors quite a bit. I mean, he's still shaking, but it looks like he'll retain control of his motor functions for a lot longer."

"So you weren't at the hospital," Izzie continued, undeterred. "Where were you?"

Cristina slammed her locker door with a decisive _clang. _"She had a date."

Izzie let out a small gasp. "A date?" she repeated incredulously. Her head swiveled as she turned to face Meredith. "When have you had time to meet someone?"

"She hasn't."

Izzie swung her head to face Cristina. "But…who?"

"Shepherd," Cristina relayed with a triumphant smirk.

Izzie's eyes widened as she turned back to Meredith. "I thought you were done with Derek!"

"She is. Or she was, anyway. They've been abusing their right to break-up sex," Cristina informed, locking gazes with Meredith.

Izzie emitted another gasp. When she spoke, her voice had climbed significantly in pitch. "You're still sleeping together?! But…we live together! How do I not know this?"

"Because you've been chasing cardio and sleeping with George," Meredith returned dryly, narrowing her eyes in Cristina's direction. "How did you know I had a date?"

Cristina shrugged nonchalantly into her locker. "Sloan told me."

Meredith's brow creased in confusion. "When did you talk to Sloan?"

"When I went to kick Shepherd's ass last night."

Meredith's frown deepened. "Why would you kick Derek's ass?"

Cristina shrugged again. "You ran. He didn't go after you."

Meredith heaved a sigh at her friend's disturbingly simple logic. "Yeah, but…I'm the one that ran."

"True," Cristina agreed as she tugged her curly mane into a ponytail, "but he's got a shitty habit of not showing up when you need him the most."

"Word," Izzie intoned seriously.

Meredith opened her mouth to protest. Then she remembered his absence after Susan's funeral and all the calls that went unanswered after her brief, unfortunate encounter with Elliot Bay, and she pursed her lips in reluctant acknowledgment that maybe—just _maybe_—her friends had a point. "Okay, so he doesn't show up," she conceded bitterly. "How is kicking his ass going to fix that?"

"Pavlovian conditioning?" Cristina offered. She took a seat on the bench and began to work the laces of her cross trainers. "I imagine that the threat of bodily harm or castration is pretty good incentive to stop being an ass. I mean, nothing says 'quit fucking up' like broken bones and blood."

"True," Alex agreed as the locker room door swung shut behind him. "Whose ass is Yang threatening today?"

"Dr. Shepherd's," Izzie offered with an almost imperceptible shrug.

"Shepherd?" Alex repeated, eyebrows arched in surprise. His gaze darted quickly from Izzie to Meredith. "I thought you said the date went well last night?"

Meredith's eyes widened with the sudden need to defend Derek's honor. "It did!"

"Oh no. No, no, no," Christina grunted, giving her laces a final tug before launching herself into a standing position. Her hands immediately found her hips. "Evil Spawn knew about the date before I did? That's just wrong!"

The left corner of Alex's mouth curled in a condescending smirk. "Evil Spawn?" he repeated in disbelief. "Seriously? We're back to that?"

"If the shoe fits…" Izzie sang haughtily.

Alex's eyes narrowed in disgust. "What's your problem?"

"You walked in on me this morning when I was in the shower," Izzie spat pointedly. "_Again._"

"Whatever," Alex grumbled. "You left the door unlocked."

Izzie's eyes widened in outrage, then narrowed to angry slits. "_And_ you've been sneaking into on-call rooms with a former patient who's _married_," she shot impudently.

"So?" Alex retorted. "You're sleeping with O'Malley, and he's married. Besides," he added with a sneer, "last time I checked, you didn't seem to have a problem with the occasional doctor-patient tryst."

"Seriously?" Izzie fired heatedly. "You're seriously going to bring Denny into this?"

"Okay, Denny's dead. And Alex's love life has always been fucked up, but Meredith might be headed for another Shepherd-shaped crisis, and that affects all of us," Cristina snapped. "Can we focus here?" She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Meredith. "How did Evil Spawn find out about your date before I did?"

Meredith heaved a sigh. "We ended up getting home at the same time," she muttered in annoyance.

"So what, you painted each other's nails and swapped sex details?" Cristina grumbled. She folded her arms across her chest and threw Alex a glare. "Where were _you_ last night?"

Alex shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it carelessly in his locker. "With Lexie."

"Lexie?" Izzie's eyebrows buried themselves in her platinum blonde hairline. "Lexie _Grey_?"

He tossed her a defiant, sardonic smile. "Yup."

"You're sleeping with a married patient AND Meredith's little sister?"

"She's not my sister," Meredith interjected pointedly.

Alex slammed the door to his locker with a nonchalant shrug. "I like to keep busy," he smirked.

"You're a pig," Izzie hissed in disdain.

Before Alex could grind out a response, the door to the locker room swung open and cracked into the wall. Dr. Bailey emerged with a glare.

"Enough with the gossip!" she admonished loudly in her usual no-nonsense tone. "We have rounds, people. By some unfortunate stroke of luck, you're residents now. You have interns to entertain, and I'd prefer that you do it with medicine." She cast a withering glance towards Alex and Izzie. "Karev. Stevens. If you're going to pitch a fit, do it outside this hospital on somebody else's time. Right now, you're on _my_ watch, and I will not have two of _my_ residents name-calling like a bunch of first graders on _my_ watch. Do I make myself clear?"

The designated residents sheepishly dropped their gazes to the floor. "Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison.

Dr. Bailey stared at them for a moment longer, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, before returning her gaze to the other residents.

"Karev, you're with Sloan. There was a restaurant that caught fire this morning, and that means…"

"Burn victims," Alex grinned eagerly.

"Yes," Dr. Bailey admitted reluctantly. Her lips curled downward in disgust. "Try to contain your excitement." She rolled her eyes and directed her attention to the girls. "Grey, you need to do post-op rounds on Shepherd's DBS case, and then I want you to join Sloan. He's going to need all the help he can get."

Meredith nodded obediently.

"Good. Stevens, you're with Hahn."

Cristina's features immediately contorted in protest. "What?!"

Dr. Bailey's eyes flashed warningly. "Yang, I am your chief resident. I make the assignments."

Cristina swallowed. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "It's just…cardio is _my _specialty."

"Yes," Dr. Bailey agreed, "but Dr. Shepherd has what appears to be a special case this morning. And, since I refused to give him the pleasure of Dr. Grey's company, he asked for you."

Cristina inhaled sharply and planted a defiant hand on her hip. "What is it?" she asked carefully, her tone reflecting equal parts curiosity and respect.

"Craniopharyngioma," Dr. Bailey deadpanned. When Cristina's eyes widened eagerly, Dr. Bailey's lips curled in a smirk. "Yeah, I thought you'd like that."

Meredith rolled her eyes in annoyance as a smile bloomed on Cristina's tight, angular features. "How old is the patient?" she asked tentatively.

"Six," Dr. Bailey sighed. Meredith inhaled sharply, and Dr. Bailey rolled her eyes. "Grey, do not give me that look. Last I checked, you still haven't picked a specialty. I know you're leaning toward neuro, but 'leaning toward' isn't gonna get you special treatment. Besides, Shepherd 'just _had_ to have you' for that DBS case yesterday, and much to his chagrin, he doesn't get you two days in a row."

Meredith offered a small, nervous smile in Dr. Bailey's direction. "It's fine. I'm fine."

Cristina tossed her friend a cocky grin. "Oh, me too."

Dr. Bailey rolled her eyes yet again. "Fantastic. You think you're fine enough to get a move on? I have patients to see."

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused. With that, Dr. Bailey made her exit. The residents recommenced their chatter as soon as the door slammed behind her.

"Can you believe that?" Cristina in awe. "A craniopharyngioma. Do you have any idea how rare those are?"

"Yes," Meredith muttered. "Less than one case in 100,000. They account for less than four percent of all brain tumors."

Cristina's eyes flashed eagerly. "Exactly."

Meredith gave her friend a sideways glance of disbelief. "You do realize they're usually inoperable, right?

"Six-year-old patient, Mere," Cristina taunted. "The brain's still developing. That means a lot more treatment options are available."

Meredith rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Whatever. At least I know I'll be holding a scalpel today."

"Yeah, if Sloan doesn't have any dry cleaning ready," Cristina snorted. "Why didn't you tell me you and Derek had a date?"

"I didn't know," Meredith admitted.

Cristina's brow furrowed in confusion. "How did a date even come up?" she persisted. "I thought you guys were on the rocks. Right? You walked out, he got pissed off and pouty…"

Meredith couldn't help but smile at Cristina's cold, hard recap. "We had a talk after lunch yesterday."

Cristina's eyebrows rose in appreciation. "You mean Shepherd actually grew some balls and sought you out?"

Meredith snorted. "More like I caught him flirting with Syph Nurse and dragged him into an exam room."

Crisitna's face fell. "Oh, God," she murmured in disgust. "Don't tell me you had sex with him."

"I didn't."

Cristina heaved a sigh of relief, and Meredith smiled. "Actually, I told him I didn't want him to date other people."

Cristina stopped long enough to give Meredith an appreciative sideways glance. "Impressive," she remarked casually. "So you upped the stakes."

"I upped the stakes," Meredith agreed with a smirk. "Sex, mockery, conversation, and exclusivity."

"Which apparently includes inexpensive dinners in quiet places," came the wry addition.

Meredith leaned forward in shock. "Sloan knew about that?"

"Sloan was the delivery boy," Cristina replied with a smirk.

Meredith gave a small chuckle of disbelief. "You're kidding, right? Sloan doesn't even get his own food."

"Maybe he's doing penance," Cristina suggested with a shrug. "You know. 'Here's your dinner. I'm sorry I fucked your wife.'"

"Maybe," Meredith mused in agreement. "I didn't even realize they were friends."

"They're friendly enough that Sloan told Derek to fight for you," Cristina remarked.

Meredith narrowed her eyes in disbelief. "Bullshit."

"No," Cristina laughed, sifting through charts for the craniopharyngioma case. "True story. Apparently, Shepherd was moping in the elevator yesterday morning, so Sloan told him to suck it up and quit being a pussy."

Meredith tilted her head in consideration. "That does sound like something Sloan would say," she acknowledged.

Cristina smiled triumphantly, and Meredith shook her head in amazement.

"So you think McSteamy is responsible for the glimpse of Cinderella's castle?"

Cristina knit her brow in something between confusion and disgust. "Cinderella's castle?" she repeated with obvious disdain.

Meredith's cheeks burned crimson as she searched the chart rack for the latest on her DBS patient.

"Meredith?"

Meredith sucked in a deep breath for courage and let it out with an embarrassed _pfft _as she chanced a nervous glance in Cristina's direction.

"The other day," she began haltingly, "you said…and I told Derek, and…"

Cristina's eyebrows rose doubtfully, and Meredith lifted her chin and straightened, tugging the wrinkles out of her lab coat.

"I know where we're headed now," she concluded. "With the stepping, I mean. I know what we're stepping towards."

"Cinderella's castle?" Cristina prodded with a smirk. A tiny smile bloomed on Meredith's delicate features, and the surly resident allowed a grin of her own to surface. "Nice," she murmured appreciatively.

"Ah! Dr. Yang. I've been looking for you." A shock of dark brown hair entered Cristina's peripheral vision. "I see you've found Carly Parker's chart. We're going to need a CT, an MRI, and a full endocrine assessment. You might want to pick an intern to conduct an ophthalmology assessment as well. I'm sure Dr. Bailey's told you, but Carly's presenting with symptoms that suggest a…"

"Craniopharyngioma," Cristina interrupted delightedly. "I heard. I'll take her down to CT immediately."

Derek watched her go with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "She does realize that a craniopharyngioma is a brain tumor, right? They're usually inoperable. This little girl could die."

"It's a rare tumor," Meredith replied, "and it's Cristina."

"Right." Derek shook his head quickly and turned to Meredith with a winsome smile. "So," he began, his eyes sparkling arrogantly in the bright neon light of the hallway, "you have my car keys."

"I have your car keys," Meredith agreed with a small, impish smile.

"You could bring them to my office around lunchtime," he offered huskily, leaning in for a breath of lavender.

Meredith's eyebrows rose appreciatively. "I might be doing skin grafts with Dr. Sloan."

"That," he murmured, brushing his nose gently with hers, "is extremely unfortunate."

Meredith's green eyes glittered in amusement. "Is it?"

"Oh, yes." His words scraped the bottom of his vocal register as he drew her closer to him.

His lips were mere millimeters away from hers when Meredith became aware of the fact that they were in a very public hallway. Her eyes widened appropriately, and she made a conscious effort to put distance between them. "Derek," she hissed, tugging gently on his lab coat, "we need to go see Mr. Jacobson."

"In a minute," he murmured, smirking.

"Now," Meredith countered pointedly. "People are staring."

His eyelids fluttered open slowly. "Ah," he mused. "See, if we were in my office, people wouldn't be staring."

Meredith met his impish grin with a sigh of exasperation. "_Dr. Shepherd_," she reprimanded pointedly. "There is a man recovering from deep brain stimulation surgery in room 405. There is a little girl with a brain tumor on her way to CT, and there are multiple burn victims in the pit!" she admonished in a threatening whisper. "We do not have time to go to your office!"

Derek's grin was incorrigible. "So, dinner then? I'm sure I could convince Dr. Sloan to share you for a bit."

Meredith arched a challenging eyebrow. "Why not just ask him to deliver food to the OR?"

Derek's eyes narrowed suspiciously at her implication. "You know about that?"

"I know about that."

He searched her face anxiously for anger, or defiance, or frustration—any sign that she'd spoken to Mark since the uncomfortable conversation on the elevator. "Romantic or pathetic?" he prodded fearfully.

Meredith folded her arms across her chest and appeared to seriously consider the question. "Undecided," she concluded lightly as her gaze scraped the ceiling.

"Oh, come on," Derek retorted. "You had fun last night."

Meredith's eyes found the floor as she shrugged noncommittally. "Sort of."

Derek inhaled sharply and, for a brief moment, his body went rigid with fear that he'd misread her. He scanned her face frantically as Mark's words echoed ominously in the back of his mind. _"If I know Meredith, she's not going to take kindly to being rescued."_

He swallowed forcefully. "Sort of?" he repeated, trying desperately to keep his voice from shaking.

She glanced up at him through hooded eyes, gave her head a suggestive tilt, and allowed her lips to curl ever so slightly in a maddeningly seductive smirk.

He had to purse his lips together to keep from emitting a loud sigh of relief. _She's kidding._

He swallowed again and forced himself to smile. They were flirting. Teasing each other. On some level, it felt good to know that they could revisit the kind of casual, carefree exchanges that had marked the beginning of their relationship.

He reached up and fingered a lock of her honey blonde hair with a smirk of his own. "Admit it," he murmured with an arrogance that he didn't quite feel. "Last night was amazing."

She arched a defiant eyebrow. " 'Amazing' seems kind of like an overstatement..."

Derek's brow creased gently in frustration and—_God forbid_—desperation. When he spoke, his tone was dangerously close to a whine. "Meredith…"

Her eyes glittered impishly, and her giggle took his breath away.

"Fine," she conceded playfully, giving her eyes a good-natured roll. "Last night was amazing."

"Mm," Derek mused in agreement. He braced himself against the nurses' station, and his lips parted slightly in wonder as his eyes bore into her. "We should do it again." Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and he fought the urge to grimace. _"We should do it again"? Nice, Shepherd. Really smooth. It took her a ridiculous amount of convincing to agree to one date, and now you're trying to spring a string of them on her._

"Not tonight," he clarified quickly. " Obviously." _Obviously? _"Not because I don't want to, but…I might be removing a tumor. I might be removing a tumor, and you should sleep, but…"

He was floundering. Once upon a time, he'd known how to flirt. He'd been smooth, even—leaning against doorframes with wicked half-smiles and cracking jokes about chunks of carbs in baskets. He'd even been a little bit smooth last night, maybe.

He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to stop talking, to dig deep down and retrieve the certainty with which he'd been struck whenever her knees hit the blanket. _Purple. Like royalty._

He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek with the pad of his thumb, and the gentle smile on her face left him breathless and sated and…sure.

"Soon," he concluded reverently.

"Soon," Meredith agreed with a relieved exhale. _Not tonight, because I have a date with my not-sister and her alcoholic father, but soon. _"You know what else we should do?"

Derek wiggled his eyebrows naughtily. "What's that?"

"Go check on Mr. Jacobson," she deadpanned seriously, smacking him gently in the chest with the appropriate chart.

His Cheshire grin faded quickly to a petulant frown. "You're no fun."

She scanned the hallway briefly for gossiping eyes and ears. When she realized that no one appeared to be paying them any mind, she took a moment to consider him.

"You say that now," she murmured, arching a suggestive brow as she brushed his shoulder with hers and began her trek to Mr. Jacobson's room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Derek sucked in a nervous breath as he watched the MRI scans flash across the screen in front of him. A few clicks of the mouse, and he was staring at an enlarged picture of Carly Parker's brain.

Except he wasn't. Because, in his mind's eye, he was watching Meredith kneel down in front of the picnic spread with a beautiful smile on her face and wondering if she had really been as happy as he'd perceived her to be. Wondering if his intentions had really been as pure and selfless as he'd assumed them to be.

He was going to kill Mark.

She had seemed happy. Well…initially, she'd seemed nervous and uncomfortable, her eyes darting left and right as she struggled to explain why she didn't deserve such a lavish display. They'd pushed beyond that, though. He'd told her quite seriously that he still had something to prove, and she had sighed with relief, and…she'd been happy.

At least, he thought she'd been happy.

He'd gone to extremes to make the date perfect. The purple blanket, the lavender torches, the steak dinner that they'd never gotten the chance to eat together…he had wanted so desperately to prove that he was worth it. Worth the psych books and the tequila ban and the sudden addition of exclusivity and the reintroduction of the word "trust" into everyday conversation.

"This thing you're doing for Meredith? This thing where you buy lavender-scented torches and steak dinners and feed her cute little lines about Cinderella or whatever? It has to be because you love her. It can't be because you have some deep-seated urge to be the good guy."

Derek scrubbed his face with a calloused hand and forced himself to focus on the scans in front of him. When he finally glanced up, his gaze wavered between an unusually quiet Cristina and a very fidgety Lexie Grey.

"Well," he began, allowing his eyes to drift once more to the films on the wall. "What do you see?"

Lexie glanced nervously at Cristina, who nodded ever so slightly.

"Um…it's definitely a craniopharyngioma," the intern concluded.

Derek arched a skeptical eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

Lexie exhaled with a _whoosh _of air that echoed in the tiled room. "Well…the combination of hypodense and isodense elements in the questionable region suggests a cystic tumor with calcifications, which is the most common form of a craniopharyngioma in children."

Derek's eyes widened ever so slightly in appreciation. Beside him, Cristina's lips curled in a proud smirk. "Very good, Dr. Grey." He sucked in a breath and turned his attention to Cristina. "Dr. Yang, do you see anything else that might be noteworthy?"

"Hydrocephalus," Cristina replied confidently.

Derek nodded in agreement and turned his attention back to Lexie. "Which is..."

"A build-up of cerebrospinal fluid," Lexie answered shakily. "The tumor is obstructing the normal CSF pathways."

"Correct." Derek heaved a sigh and decided to let them off the hook for a moment as he considered the scans in front of him. "In rare cases, hydrocephalus is left untreated, but in this case, where a solid tumor is present, it presents an emergent concern. We'll definitely need to operate." He shook his head gently. _Six years old. _In instances such as this, youth usually worked to both the patient's and the doctor's advantage, but it didn't make the situation any less unfair. "How should we proceed?"

"A ventriculoperitoneal shunt," Cristina replied decisively.

Derek gave her an inquisitive sideways glance. "Why?"

She cleared her throat hastily. "A shunt would drain the excess fluid. I know hydrocephalus can also be treated by removing the third ventricle, but, in this case, it'd just present another set of unnecessary risks."

"Oh?"

Cristina shot him a look of disdain. "We already have to go in and remove a tumor. She doesn't need us removing a giant chunk of her brain as well."

Derek bit back and smile at Cristina's audacity and gave a thoughtful nod. "I see. Dr. Grey?"

Lexie heaved a sigh. "I agree. It looks as though the tumor is causing the build-up, so removing the tumor should alleviate the problem." She gave her head a gentle, incredulous shake. "Dr. Yang's right," she concluded quietly. "A ventriculostomy would just be…"

"Excessive," Derek finished. "I agree. So we'll install the shunt to drain the excess fluid, wait, then go in to remove the tumor. What should we watch for?"

Lexie glanced once more at Cristina, who nodded. "Well," she began, "the tumor is close to the hypothalamus and may be adhered, so we might not be able to get it all. Which is problematic, really, because craniopharyngiomas metastasize a lot, and there's rarely any malignant deterioration…"

"Never," Cristina interrupted gently. Both doctors turned to her in surprise.

"What?"

"Craniopharyngiomas never undergo malignant deterioration," Cristina clarified. "They never get any smaller. They only spread."

Derek narrowed his eyes suspiciously in Cristina's direction. He'd heard her say many things to interns. She yelled. She threatened. She snapped. She always spoke to them in the curt, businesslike, surly tone for which she was infamous. But now, with Lexie, she sounded almost…parental. And very, very sad.

It was disturbing, to say the least.

"Exactly," he agreed cautiously. "And statistically, the recurrence rate is high, so we'll have to send Carly to an oncologist for radiation therapy when this is over." He heaved a sigh and raked a tired, shaky hand through his signature curls. "She's got a long road ahead of her. It's not an easy surgery." He inhaled sharply and turned his attention back to the cryptic women with whom he'd be operating. "What's our biggest concern going in?"

"Hypothalamic injury," Cristina replied quickly.

Derek nodded. "Yes. The tumor is in a tricky location. Thankfully, it's solid enough that it'll be hard to miss." He met Lexie's eyes with a solemn, professional countenance. "Dr. Grey, I'll need you to book an OR and call for a consult from oncology. We'll need to discuss the situation with Carly's parents, but I'd like to operate as soon as possible."

Lexie gave a brief nod and darted out of the room. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked loudly against the shiny tile of the surgical floor.

Derek spun around in his chair and leaned back to study his abnormally quiet resident. Cristina had braced herself against the wall with one hand. The other was buried in her hair. She was staring at the films and shaking her head ever so slightly, her brow furrowed in a depth of concern he'd never seen her express.

He cleared his throat pointedly, shattering the silence.

Cristina jumped. Derek frowned.

"Are you all right, Dr. Yang?" he asked gently.

Her brow smoothed immediately, and she turned to face him with a determinedly neutral expression. "I'm fine, sir."

"Sir?" Derek snorted in disbelief. "You're not fine."

"Of course I am," Cristina insisted lightly. "I'm a doctor, and it's a difficult case. I'm simply concerned about our patient."

Derek arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Concerned?" he repeated. "Dr. Yang, a few hours ago, you were practically skipping down the hall at the prospect of a rare brain tumor."

Cristina maintained her neutral, almost pleasant expression, but her jaw tightened noticeably. "I'm merely eager to learn, sir," she countered with forced gentility.

Derek bit back a smile. Cristina's stubborn streak reminded him eerily of Meredith. As her attention drifted back to the scans, however, her brow furrowed again, and his smile faded.

"Cristina," he began hesitantly, "the prognosis looks good. Her parents brought her in early enough that we have a good chance of proceeding with minimal damage."

"Minimal damage?" she repeated incredulously. "Dr. Shepherd, the tumor has very clearly adhered to the hypothalamus. It's very unlikely that you'll be able to get the whole tumor without some kind of hypothalamic injury."

Derek shook his head ever so slightly. "That might be true, but we have no way of knowing what we can and cannot do until we're inside."

"Still," Cristina grumbled, "there's no happy ending here. So we take the whole tumor. Hypothalamic injury compromises her day-to-day life. She'd never function the same way again. And if we can't get the whole tumor, there's the possibility that the tumor will metastasize. Radiation treatment is rarely successful in these cases, and even if it is, she's still got this…_thing. _In her brain. Permanently."

Derek had the distinct impression that they were no longer talking about Carly Parker's tumor.

"Cristina," he murmured gently, "look at me."

He knew she was distraught when she obeyed without protesting his soft, consoling tone. With a rueful sigh, he balanced his chin precariously on his folded hands and raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"I'm the best," he told her seriously. "I know it seems like a dire situation, but I can handle this. At the very least—barring any complications, of course—we'll put her in a much better position to fight this. And if we can't get the whole tumor, it's still not a death sentence." He sucked in a breath and met her gaze solemnly. "She's got good, strong parents, and she seems like a very brave girl. She'll be all right."

Cristina stared at him for a moment, unblinking. Behind the smooth brow and pursed lips, he could see her gathering it all—the anger, the frustration, the betrayal, the loneliness, the loss—and tucking it into a deep, dark corner far from the surface.

"I should go find Lexie before she kills someone," she muttered finally.

"You should," Derek agreed with a small smile. "You know, I'm surprised you chose her to assist."

Cristina's chin rose defiantly. "Why wouldn't I?" she volleyed caustically. "She may be chatty, and an intern, but she's not a _horrible_ doctor."

Derek bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at a response that was so characteristic of Cristina. "Still," he persisted, "the last time we operated together…"

"You were a jackass?" Cristina supplied nonchalantly.

His features contorted in offense. "Dr. Yang!"

Her eyes flashed audaciously as she planted both hands on her hips. "What?"

He inhaled sharply. "I…"

"_You're not the only one with something to prove."_

He exhaled through parted lips and ran a hand through his hair. His chuckle was hollow and brittle. "You're right," he conceded. "I was a jackass."

"Yeah," Cristina agreed tersely. "Wasn't that the day you extended and then retracted an offer for a romantic weekend getaway? Something about a McDreamy little speech and a let-down?"

He flinched openly as his own words rang mockingly in his ears. _"Yeah, but what if…what if, while I'm waiting, I find someone who is willing to give me what I want from you?"_

"I was a jackass," he admitted, his voice low and morose. He could still vividly recall the look on Meredith's face as he'd stepped onto the elevator that evening. She had been disappointed and upset, but not surprised.

Guilt settled like a leaden weight in the pit of his stomach, and his breathing quickened as he recalled Mark's reality check from the previous morning. _Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm not worth it. Maybe I'm…_

Cristina's curt voice slashed through his pity party. "Apparently you've changed your tune since then," she remarked dryly.

Derek glanced up in shock. He'd expected a lecture. Another tongue-lashing in the bitter, lofty tone she reserved for the interns she'd numbered. He was shocked to find her staring at him with something that looked almost like a smile.

"What…?" he sputtered in confusion.

"Rumor has it you decided on a destination last night," Cristina continued, undeterred. "Something about Cinderella's castle."

Derek's laugh was terse and incredulous. "Oh. That."

"Yeah. That." Cristina rolled her eyes at his sudden loss of articulation and glanced back over at the films for a moment. She heaved a sigh, folded her arms across her chest, and returned her attention to Derek.

To his immense surprise, her gaze softened ever so slightly.

"She's happy."

Derek's eyebrows buried themselves in his hairline. "Excuse me?"

Cristina rolled her eyes again, and the soft stare vanished in the wake of yet another disgusted frown. "What are you, deaf? She's happy, Shepherd. After your…whatever last night, she actually seems happy."

His lips parted in astonishment. "Oh." He was bewildered when tears immediately welled in his eyes and bit at his nasal cavities.

"Yeah." Out of discomfort, or disdain, or maybe—just maybe—_respect, _Cristina turned her full attention to the MRI scans on the computer and gave Derek a chance to collect himself.

He blinked rapidly at the ceiling and took a few deep breaths. _It's okay. She's happy. I'm happy. It's okay._

At long last, he expelled a sigh that held the weight of the world and met Cristina's ruthless gaze with the barest hint of a smile.

"I'm glad," he breathed. "That she's happy, I mean. I'm glad."

Cristina acknowledged his statement with a curt nod. "Me too." She gave him a cautious once-over and arched a threatening eyebrow. "Don't fuck it up this time."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Meredith's breath hitched in her throat as she stared quaint, cozy-looking house before her.

She really, _really _didn't want to do this.

It had been a good day. Mr. Jacobson was faring much better after the DBS procedure, and she'd left him to find the pit overflowing with potential plastics patients. After about an hour of sutures, she'd scrubbed in on two skin grafts and a facial reconstruction. The plastics department had been so overrun with patients, in fact, that both Alex and Dr. Sloan had still been in surgery when she left. Furthermore, Dr. Sloan had been so impressed with her work that he'd promised to request her for his service the following day.

A tiny part of her had been hoping to get in on the craniopharyngioma case, but she was still thrilled to receive praise from the notoriously condescending head of plastics. It had also helped that Dr. Sloan liked to gossip about Derek in the OR. During the facial reconstruction, Dr. Sloan had regaled her with a rather amusing recount of Derek's pre-date freak-out, and it put her strangely at ease to know that, sometimes, McDreamy was as nervous as she was.

It had been a good day, but then she'd gotten in her car and pulled up to the house where her father had raised his other bright-and-shiny family, and feelings of responsibility and abandonment had rested like leaden weights on her shoulders.

She gazed at the front door with mounting apprehension. _What's that saying? "All good things must come to an end"?_

She heaved a sigh of frustration, closed her eyes, and rang the doorbell.

Shouting ensued immediately. She could barely distinguish a loud, slurred tenor that sounded remotely like her father, but footfalls of increasing volume quickly overshadowed his voice and came to a stop with a force that rattled the door, which squeaked on its hinges as it opened to reveal a beleaguered, disheveled Lexie Grey.

The brunette's eyes widened exponentially as they rose to meet Meredith's tight, tentative smile.

"Meredith," she stammered in bewilderment.

"Lexie," Meredith returned shakily. "Hi."

Lexie swallowed visibly. "Hi." Her pointed features contorted in confusion. "What are you…?"

Meredith inhaled sharply and managed another small, tight-lipped smile. "I…I heard you've been taking care of Thatcher."

Lexie's eyebrows struggled to meet above the bridge of her nose. "Yeah. How did…?" She trailed off as realization dawned, and her befuddled expression faded to something darker and angrier. "Alex told you."

She wanted to run. She wanted to apologize for bothering them and hurry home, where she could curl up in blankets with Cristina and curse her unfortunate familial ties in between shots of tequila. But then she heard Derek's voice, soft and thoughtful in her ear.

"_I wanted something simple."_

Meredith exhaled slowly and squared her shoulders. "It doesn't matter how I know," she insisted sternly. "The point is…Thatcher's sick, and you've been taking care of him, and…"

"And I'm his daughter," Lexie mumbled defensively. "It's my job."

Meredith bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Because Alex was right. She had been here before.

"_You think I like making these decisions for you? You think it's fun to get calls from the nursing home asking if I'm going to give the nurse who changes you every morning a Christmas tip? But I do it. Because _you _have managed to alienate everybody else in your life, and I am the only one. So I have to step up and do it. You want to know why I'm so unfocused? So ordinary? You want to know what happened to me? You. You happened to me."_

She realized, as she struggled to find a comfortable space between fight and flight, that she really didn't want Lexie to be as screwed up as she was.

"It's not your job," Meredith told her knowingly, "but you do it anyway, because you're the only one."

Lexie blinked. A crease appeared on her forehead as she tilted her head curiously to the side. "Yes."

Meredith gave her a small, understanding smile. "You shouldn't have to do it alone."


	10. So Hard

**Author's Note:** **I told you the wait wouldn't be as long this time! It's been a productive weekend, thanks to the voluntary continuation of Writing Boot Camp (the brainchild of GreysAddict522). I hope you all enjoyed the return of our show last night. ** **I, for one, was thrilled to see the return of Strong Meredith.**

**If you're in the mood for fiction, take some time to swing back over to my profile page and click the link for my post-4.11 fic entitled "Dignity." (shameless plug) As always, thanks for the continued love in feedback form! Y'all are amazing. :-)**

**SO HARD**

When she'd first walked through the door, she hadn't quite known what to expect. The last time she'd seen drunk Thatcher, he had slapped her for killing his wife. And, with the yelling she'd heard through the door, she had been justifiably afraid that he might slap her again.

He hadn't.

To her immense surprise, Thatcher had actually been a fairly pleasant drunk. He had talked too loudly and laughed too loudly and frequently lost control of his limbs, but he hadn't been mean.

He had, however, been sick.

She had expected it to be painful—cleaning up his vomit and coaxing his floppy limbs into clean clothes—but it had been surprisingly easy. Like taking care of a patient. Getting him up the stairs had been a unique kind of challenge, but they had done it. They'd gotten him upstairs and into bed and had taken turns forcing half a gallon of water into him to counteract any dehydration. She'd expected him to fight them, but even in—or, perhaps, because of—his state of semi-consciousness, he'd been surprisingly agreeable.

She knew from the bags under Lexie's eyes and the gentle trembling of her hands and the way she watched Thatcher with constant trepidation, though, that Thatcher wasn't always so kind.

Meredith gave her damp washcloth a delicate squeeze and dabbed once more at Thatcher's forehead as his breath relaxed into deep, even puffs of air.

Across the bed, Lexie breathed an audible sigh of relief. "He's asleep," she all but whispered, her voice soft and awestruck.

"He is," Meredith agreed quietly.

Green orbs met brown in a wave of sudden apprehension. For a moment, the girls stood in silence, staring curiously at each other over Thatcher's unconscious body.

Meredith swallowed loudly. Lexie's teeth gripped her lower lip.

At long last, the younger Grey cleared her throat, effectively shattering the fragile silence.

"So, um…" Her eyebrows rose hopefully. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah." Meredith tilted her head curiously to the side and mustered a small, appreciative smile. "That would be nice."

She followed Lexie downstairs, staring in wonder at everything from the worn Persian runner on the steps to the plethora of pictures lining the stairwell. The banister had grooves shaped like fingers. The third step from the bottom creaked when Lexie's foot fell there. The light fixture in the foyer flickered every few seconds. There was a crack in the last step that Lexie knew to avoid, but Meredith tripped.

As soon as they reached the kitchen, Lexie worked quickly, almost blindly—measuring the water, pouring the grinds, and adjusting the machine's settings for a new pot. Her quiet diligence reminded Meredith of Susan.

Lexie slammed the canister shut, and the coffee machine gurgled to life. When she whirled around, Meredith expected to see the calm, collected countenance of her stepmother.

She was startled when her eyes met a tentative smile and trembling fingers. "So, um…"

Meredith returned the tentative smile. "So," she echoed.

They fidgeted collectively in uncomfortable silence as the first drop of coffee landed with a _plink _at the bottom of the pot.

Meredith cleared her throat and began an intense study of the Corian countertop. "So," she prompted wryly. "So you can draw. With an Etch-A-Sketch."

"Yeah." Lexie scrubbed a palm across her face in mortification. "Oh, God," she murmured, wrinkling her nose. "That was so embarrassing. SO embarrassing. I just…I knew you hated me, and I wanted you to stop hating me, and everything you said to that father made so much sense, so…I came up with five things. Five stupid, stupid things, and…"

Lexie's hesitant soprano became a dull murmur as Meredith began to really study the other Grey. She absorbed everything, from the way Lexie's lower lip trembled to the way she was wringing her hands—fervently, emphatically, just in front of her stomach. She watched the way Lexie jerked forward with certain syllables, the way her eyes widened between damp lashes and darted almost undetectably to the floor. And, as Meredith watched her not-sister, she began to wonder idly if this—this numbing combination of guilt, humility, and incredulity—was what Derek had experienced in the scrub room only a year prior.

_Pick me. Choose me. Love me._

Lexie wasn't speaking those exact words, but they rang out clearly nonetheless, and Meredith shuddered gently with the force of their impact.

"I don't hate you."

Lexie's rambling ceased immediately as her brow creased in confusion. "What?"

Meredith inhaled sharply and expelled a heavy sigh as her fingers stroked the underside of the countertop. "I don't hate you," she repeated softly, allowing the corners of her mouth to curl ever so slightly in a reassuring smile. Her eyes strayed once more to the unfamiliar Corian, and she chuckled bitterly when she realized that this was the first time she'd been inside her father's house. "If I hated you, I wouldn't be here."

The coffee machine beeped loudly, interrupting the introspective moment, and Lexie turned to retrieve and fill two mismatched ceramic mugs. She grabbed a spoon and bowl from the counter and began dumping sugar liberally into her Harvard cup before turning expectantly to Meredith.

"Sugar?"

"No thanks." Meredith wrinkled her nose. "Black is good."

Lexie nodded slowly and placed a tacky, cowprint mug on the counter in front of Meredith, who blew softly on the surface for a few moments before chancing a sip.

"Can I ask you a question?" Lexie blurted.

Meredith glanced up and gave an apprehensive nod.

"Why _are_ you here?"

The words danced precariously along the walls, and Lexie winced at their echo.

"I mean…I didn't mean it like that. It just…seems weird. You showing up, I mean. Not bad weird, though. I'm glad you did. But…why?" Her features contorted in desperation. "Is it because Alex asked you to come? Because if it is, and you're just doing this out of pity or some weird sense of obligation or…or if he guilt-tripped you…"

Meredith decided against telling Lexie that "guilt-tripped" might be too gentle a term for Alex's blatant, unapologetic attempts at coercion. Instead, she took another cautious sip of coffee. "My mother had Alzheimer's," she interrupted hastily.

The rambling ceased as Lexie's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "_Ellis Grey_ had Alzheimer's?"

"Yup."

"I'm so sorry," Lexie murmured. "I…I never heard anything."

"No, you wouldn't have," Meredith admitted with a hollow, bitter chuckle. "She didn't want anyone to know." She slid onto one of the available barstools and stretched her forearms onto the counter, warming her hands against the sides of the mug. "She didn't even want _me _to know. But, at the end of the day, I was the only one she trusted, so…she called me, and I flew home."

Lexie inhaled sharply, and Meredith tossed her a smirk.

"For years, I was the only one that knew," she confessed. "I went to med school during the day and took care of her at night. I didn't even put her in a home until I started my internship at Seattle Grace."

Lexie heaved a loud sigh and leaned forward as her features contorted in sympathy. "That must've been so hard," she murmured in admiration.

Meredith met her sister's gaze meaningfully. "No harder than what you've been doing," she countered pointedly.

Lexie was immediately taken aback. "It's not the same," she insisted, shaking her head ever so slightly. "I mean, he drinks, sure, but…but he knows who I am."

"Sure he does," Meredith agreed wryly. "On good days."

Lexie smiled weakly. "It's not like that," she murmured. "It's just…" _Temporary. Somewhere under there, he's still my father. He's going to get better. He's just going through a hard time right now. He's a better man than this. You'll see._

The night before, she'd fed Alex the same lines with admirable conviction. Now, though, staring into the knowing eyes of her older sister, her protests sounded weak and hollow and empty.

Across the island, Meredith arched a skeptical eyebrow. "You know, it's okay to admit that this…whatever…is hard on you."

Lexie swallowed uncomfortably. "He lost his wife,"

Meredith dipped her chin pointedly, but when she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "You lost your mom."

Lexie's teeth found her lower lip again as she set down her mug and blinked rapidly at the ceiling.

"Lexie," Meredith entreated gently, "no one expects…" She trailed off and cleared her throat. "You don't have to be invincible," she said instead.

Lexie's eyes fluttered to a close as she inhaled shakily. A single tear slid down her cheek, but she brushed it away with a bitter laugh and shook her head ever so slightly.

After another deep breath, she opened her eyes and leveled Meredith with an ironic smile. "I was mad at you," she confessed with a hollow chuckle. "That day, when you said that your father left when you were five, that you never saw him again…I was actually mad at you. I almost called you a liar." She trailed off and gave her head another incredulous shake. "I just…I really, really wanted you to be lying. But you weren't."

"No," Meredith agreed, her voice little more than a whisper. Lexie nodded thoughtfully and, for a moment, conversation ceased.

Both Grey sisters closed their eyes and listened to little things. The tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. The strained call of cicadas beneath the bay window. The roar of an engine in the distance.

"We _do_ have the same dad," Lexie concluded finally. Her voice trembled beneath the weight of unshed tears, but her hands were steady.

Meredith knew that it was her turn, her chance to say something big and comforting and sisterly, but the words wouldn't come.

"Meredith?"

Meredith glanced up expectantly, and Lexie sighed.

"Do you…well…" She trailed off and ran a nervous hand through her hair in a motion that reminded Meredith eerily of Derek. "Do you ever miss your mother?" she blurted finally.

To say the question surprised her would've been an understatement. Anyone who knew Ellis Grey knew the woman hadn't been a mother worth missing. But then her thoughts drifted to that one moment in the hallway where her mother's arms had been wrapped tightly around her.

"_You are anything but ordinary, Meredith."_

Her chest tightened painfully as tears pricked the backs of her eyes.

"_Do you ever miss your mother?"_

"Yeah," she breathed amazedly. "All the time."

Lexie heaved a shaky sigh. "Me too."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The gentle click of a door in a lock jolted Meredith awake. Moments later, she heard the telltale _thud _of nylon against hardwood, and her pulse began to race as she scanned the unfamiliar living room with wide eyes. Her gaze had just come to rest on Lexie's sleeping form when heavy footsteps began to echo along the halls.

"Hey."

Meredith twitched violently, eliciting a rough chuckle from the unexpected visitor.

"Jumpy much?"

Her soft features twisted into a disgruntled frown as she met Alex's impish smirk. "Shut up," she grumbled groggily. "What time is it?"

"Around two-thirty."

"Oh." Meredith's gaze drifted from her unconscious sister to the empty coffee mugs. "We must've fallen asleep," she concluded dumbly.

"You think?" Alex rolled his eyes and padded over to the armchair Lexie had claimed. "She's out like a light, huh?"

"Mm." Meredith's muscles contracted as she stretched her arms overhead. Her brow furrowed as she watched Alex crouch down to Lexie's eye level. "How'd you get in?" she demanded.

"Spare key," he replied easily, tucking a stray lock of straight brown hair behind Lexie's ear.

Meredith's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "She gave you a spare key?"

The corners of his mouth curled sheepishly as he glanced over his shoulder. "Not exactly," he admitted. "I found one taped to the underside of the mailbox."

Meredith arched an eyebrow skeptically. "That's…creepy and stalker-ish."

"Yeah, well…" Alex shrugged nonchalantly and stretched back to full height. "It's better than waking everybody up," he concluded gruffly. "Did you have fun with Thatcher?"

"Actually," Meredith admitted, "he wasn't that bad. I mean, he's loud, and he's heavy, and he vomits, but…all in all, it could've been worse."

"And Lexie?"

"What about her?" Meredith muttered petulantly. "_She_ wasn't drunk."

Alex dipped his chin pointedly, and Meredith expelled a belligerent sigh.

"You were right," she admitted quietly. "Sometimes, you need family."

His eyebrows rose in appreciation as he studied her, and a small smile graced his rugged features. "Yeah," he murmured in agreement. "Sometimes, you do."

Meredith pushed herself into a standing position and dusted her jeans lightly with her fingers. "Are you staying?" she asked quietly.

Alex stood for a moment and watched as Lexie's chest rose and fell evenly. His brow smoothed, and he sucked in a deep breath.

"Nah," he mumbled finally. "I should take her up to bed, though." The left corner of his mouth curled affectionately upwards. "I mean, look at her. That can't be comfortable."

Meredith suppressed a smile as he knelt down and gently lifted her sister out of the armchair. "I'll see you at home, then?"

"Yeah," he agreed without looking up.

She was halfway to the front door when his voice stopped her.

"Hey, Mere?"

"Yeah?"

He tossed her a small, tightlipped smile. "Thanks for doing this."

Her lips curled in an ironic smirk. "I'm not doing it for you," she told him pointedly.

Alex's smile broadened. "I know."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The box springs creaked beneath her weight when Meredith finally slid into bed. She felt uplifted but exhausted, and she was mere seconds from sleep when her head hit the pillow.

"Where have you been?"

Meredith bit back a loud groan at the sound of Cristina's voice. "Out," she mumbled groggily.

"Meredith…"

"Fine," Meredith snapped, opening one eye to glare at the woman she called her person. "I was helping Lexie take care of Thatcher."

"You were helping Lexie…" Cristina trailed off and sat up, leveling Meredith with an incredulous stare. "Why? I thought we were hating the idea of her."

"We were."

"And now we're not?" Cristina demanded.

"No." Meredith heaved a sigh. _So much for sleep_. "We kind of realized that her life isn't quite so bright-and-shiny anymore."

"So?"

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "So the Dark and Twisty club has enough members already."

"Whatever," Cristina grumbled. "Isn't misery supposed to love company?"

Meredith snorted. "That would certainly explain why you're keeping me awake at three-thirty in the morning." She heaved another sigh and flopped onto her side. "Look, Cristina, she's me, okay? She's me five years ago when I first figured out my mother was sick, and I can't just sit here and watch her flail, or whatever, until she becomes me now."

Cristina was silent for a moment. "What does Derek think?" she asked finally.

"I don't know," Meredith admitted with a sigh of resignation.

"You haven't told him."

It wasn't a question.

"I haven't told him," Meredith confirmed.

"Are you going to tell him?"

Her query was met with a suffocating wall of silence.

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Let me get this straight. You're helping the sister you don't know take care of the father you hate, and you're having sex, mockery, and conversation exclusively with McDreamy, but you haven't told him about Thatcher."

"Yup."

Cristina narrowed her eyes doubtfully in her friend's direction. "You know that's entirely fucked up, right?"

"I don't see how," Meredith mumbled defiantly. "Thatcher is none of Derek's business."

Cristina's lip curled in disgust. "Oh, that is so not what this is about. Look, I'm not an expert on relationships or anything, but…"

"We're not in a relationship," Meredith interrupted pointedly.

Cristina arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, you are so in a relationship. Exclusivity? Conversation? You're, like, three small words away from an after-school sitcom."

"_Freaks and Geeks_?" Meredith offered hopefully.

Cristina snorted. "Try _Boy Meets World_."

"Cristina…" Meredith rolled her eyes in defeat and sat up so she could meet her person's disapproving gaze. "Look, this is something I have to do for me, okay? I have to figure out how to do the family thing."

Cristina's surly features softened ever so slightly as she considered her friend. "I get that," she murmured. "I do. But…you know Shepherd's going to want to help you."

Meredith closed her eyes for a moment, and she was back in the trailer, listening to the steady patter of rain on the steel roof and suffocating in silence as Derek stared at the ceiling. She swallowed, and she could feel the rough wool of his sweater against her cheek as his chest vibrated against her.

"He said he wanted something simple," she said finally.

Cristina exhaled loudly. "When?"

"Last night. On the date."

The room echoed with Cristina's sharp intake of breath, and Meredith's chest tightened painfully in anticipation.

"Cristina…" she pleaded softly. "Look, we went on a date last night. Today, we were flirting in the hallway. He was wiggling his eyebrows and smirking infuriatingly and leaning in for whiffs of lavender, and…it was nice, okay? It was fun. Carefree." _Like it used to be in the beginning, before his wife showed up. _"Last night, he was telling me things—real, personal things—and today, he was flirting in the hallway."

Cristina's voice was low and taut when she responded. "What's your point?"

Meredith heaved a sigh and closed her eyes against the tears that were suddenly threatening to spill over. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, but full of resolve.

"He's happy, Cristina. He's happy, and I'm happy, and…it's enough," she concluded decisively. "What we have right now is enough."

Cristina was silent for a moment as she listened to Meredith's slow, even breathing. She was about to argue, about to cash in the reality check for which she was infamous, but then she remembered the way Derek's eyes had glistened with tears of relief in the neon light of the exam room, and she heard her voice, uncharacteristically soft against the silence.

"Okay."


	11. Rain Like Wine

**Author's Note:** **I am so sorry for the wait on this chapter. Hopefully the length will serve as adequate compensation. ;)**

**I'm a lot behind in replying to feedback because I wanted so badly to get this out, but I appreciate all of the comments more than I can express. You guys are awesome for being so incredibly patient, and I really hope you enjoy this installment. Have no fear—Derek reappears. Also, for the purposes of mood music, I highly suggest listening to "Your Mistake" by Sister Hazel. **

**Hope everyone enjoyed the finale!**

**RAIN LIKE WINE**

Cristina cradled her head in her hand and stared blankly at the chart in front of her. She had exactly thirty minutes before she was supposed to meet Dr. Shepherd and Lexie in Carly Parker's room, and she had intended to spend all of those thirty minutes studying the changes that had been noted since the installation of the ventriculoperitoneal shunt.

She would've had the girl's vitals memorized by now if it weren't for the tinny voice that echoed repeatedly along the walls of her skull.

"_He said he wanted something simple."_

Cristina was trying to be supportive. She was trying not to judge. Because sex and mockery was evolving. Because they were on their way to Cinderella's castle. Because, according to Meredith, she was happy—really _happy_—and, after the wife and the mother and the drowning and the psych books, Meredith deserved to have at least _something_ to smile about.

But, try as she might, Cristina couldn't ignore the fact that she too had been happy. And every time she closed her eyes and tried to force her unsupportive, judgmental feelings into a box in the corner of her brain, she was faced with the memory of Burke's frank, stoic countenance as he'd called off the wedding.

"_If I loved you—_if_ I loved _you_—not the woman that I'm trying to make you be, not the woman that I hope you'll become, but _you_… If I did, I wouldn't be up there waiting for you. I would be letting you go."_

Cristina knew Meredith better than anyone, and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Meredith was not something simple. That, try as she might, Meredith would never be something simple. In fact, Cristina saw complexity as Meredith's most redeeming quality. After all, dark-and-twisty was the cornerstone upon which their friendship had been built. Dark-and-twisty was the quality that had allowed Cristina to put Meredith's name on the form for the abortion clinic, the quality that had made it okay for Cristina to..._leak _on Meredith's shoulders after the not-wedding.

She was trying to be supportive, but she wanted to yell at Derek. Wanted to tell him that, if he was using dark-and-twisty as a reason not to be with Meredith, he didn't deserve her.

"He's happy, Cristina. He's happy, and I'm happy, and…it's enough. What we have right now is enough."

She was trying not to judge, but she kept hearing Burke's measured, muted baritone as he recited all the things she'd ever wanted to hear.

"There's no one else. You don't need to be in this line."

"_You don't ask a lot of personal questions, and you're very hard to get to know."_

"_I'm not mad. I just wanted to know. I want to know things."_

"_I am Preston Burke, and you… You are the most competitive, most guarded, most stubborn, most challenging person I have ever met. And I love you. What the hell is the matter with you that you won't just let me?"_

"_Marry me."_

With Burke, she had been happy. He had been happy, and she had been happy, and it had been enough. But the thing about Burke was that it was enough until it wasn't. And when it wasn't, well…

It sucked.

Seeing the disappointment in Burke's eyes, feeling his unspoken condemnation as he stared at her with the stoicism for which he was famous and repeated "_if _I loved _you_" in the same tone he used to tell families that a patient had died; she had felt helpless. Helpless, and lost, and tired, and insignificant and anything but _enough_. She was a strong, capable woman and—if only for a moment—Burke had destroyed that.

She didn't ever want Meredith to know that feeling.

"No one should be that deep in thought this early in the morning."

Cristina started as a cup of coffee entered her peripheral vision and rolled her eyes at the Rolex-laden wrist that accompanied it.

"Yeah, well…some of us have more to ponder than the name of the chick we just walked out on," she retorted.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and almost—_almost—_felt guilty.

"Well, good morning to you too, Dr. Yang," he returned loudly before leaning into her field of vision with a concerned and curious frown. "You're getting to scrub in on a craniopharyngioma removal this morning," he hissed discreetly, "and I know it's not a facial reconstruction, but…shouldn't you be a _little_ bit excited? Or, at the very least, a little bit less…" He trailed off and gestured vaguely to her surly expression. "_You_?" he concluded pointedly.

Cristina regarded him with obvious disdain. "The hospital is still full of burn victims from that fire yesterday," she returned dryly. "Shouldn't you be off proving that you're worth more than a few rounds in the sack and the occasional breast augmentation?"

"Do you see me trying to sell you a new pair?" he snapped irritably.

Cristina's eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and Mark's back hit the chair with a muted _thud _as his gaze sheepishly found the table.

"Look," he began, eyeing her meaningfully, "I've got a full cup of coffee, and you seem surlier than usual. You might as well tell me what's wrong."

Cristina nodded thoughtfully. "Okay," she agreed, glancing up at him with obvious apprehension. "Your best friend is an idiot."

Mark's eyebrows rose appreciatively at her response. "Well," he concluded in surprise, "I think we're finally at the point in our friendship where he won't be mortally offended if I agree with you." He furrowed his brow in curiosity and took a sip of coffee. "What did Derek do now?"

Cristina scowled at something just above Mark's left shoulder and slammed her patient's chart on the table. "He told Meredith Grey—Meredith _fucking_ Grey—that he wanted something simple."

"Simple?" Mark repeated. "As in no secret wives? No wayward proposals? No passive-aggressive martyr act?" His frown deepened in confusion. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"It would be," Cristina snapped impatiently. "Except that's not what he said. He didn't say, 'Meredith, I want to become someone simple.' He said, 'Meredith, I want something simple.'"

Mark shrugged into his peppermint mocha. "I still don't see how any of his former fuck-ups fit within the parameters of 'something simple,'" he replied wryly. "After all the shit he's pulled, 'something simple' sounds like an upgrade."

"Oh, God." Cristina's pointed features contorted in disgust. "You're both idiots."

"Really?" Mark retorted. "Both of us? That's funny, because a perfect MCAT score and three million dollars a year says I'm smart enough to surgically remove that stick from your ass without any scarring."

Cristina's lips twitched almost undetectably. "Shame you can't perform the same operation on yourself," she snapped. "Do you understand anything about women that doesn't involve getting them to sleep with you?"

Mark arched a single eyebrow in acknowledgment that she'd won this round.

"No," he admitted, leaning back in his chair with a slightly surly expression. "Enlighten me?"

Cristina rolled her eyes skyward and heaved a dramatic sigh as she slid her elbows onto the table and ran both hands through her unruly hair. "Look," she deadpanned, "it's not about what Shepherd's saying about himself. It's about what he's saying _to Meredith—_intentionally or unintentionally."

"That he's not willing to put up with something complicated."

Cristina tilted her head ever so slightly. "Yes," she agreed, her voice belying her surprise.

He shrugged nonchalantly and indulged in another sip of coffee. "So Derek says he wants something simple, and Meredith hears that he's not willing to handle her." Cristina's eyebrows rose expectantly, and Mark rolled his eyes skyward. "Those two were better off when they were just fucking each other."

Cristina's pointed features contorted in disgust. "You _would_ think that."

"Can you blame me?" he retorted expectantly. "They don't know how to talk to each other!"

"Oh, whatever," Cristina grumbled. "Derek just shouldn't open his mouth."

"So, what, he's supposed to sit there in silence like Grey does?" Mark countered pointedly. "It's not that he shouldn't open his mouth. He just needs to think first. He needs to make sure there's something behind the pretty words. Something more than his not-so-secret desire to be Prince Charming."

Cristina heaved a sigh and dropped her hand unceremoniously on the table, where she began scratching absently at a black speck. "Meredith thinks they're headed towards Cinderella's castle," she admitted quietly.

Mark shrugged into his coffee cup. "Maybe they are."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lexie Grey was pretty sure she was going to die. She was scheduled to meet Drs. Yang and Shepherd in ten minutes to discuss the removal of Carly Parker's craniopharyngioma, and she couldn't find the chart.

Craniopharyngiomas were incredibly rare. Operable craniopharyngiomas were even more rare. The fact that she was getting to see a world-class neurosurgeon attempt to remove a calcified craniopharngioma from the hypothalamus as an intern was unbelievable. She was an anomaly, and she knew it.

To demonstrate her worth, Lexie had gotten up incredibly early to pre-round on Carly. She'd taken the girl's vitals four times over two hours. She had run labs at the crack of dawn to determine whether the CSF levels had dropped significantly after the installation of the ventriculoperitoneal shunt. By a brilliant stroke of luck, everything had checked out.

She had a rare tumor case. Her sister had shown up. She'd even gotten a good night's sleep, and now she was going to lose everything because she couldn't find a stupid chart.

She was scrubbing her face impatiently with her hands when the scent of a familiar cologne wafted by.

"Sleep well?"

Lexie cracked one eye open and glared at Alex's smug countenance. "Shut up," she grumbled. "I'm mad at you."

"No you're not."

"I should be," she snapped. "I asked you for _one_ thing, Alex. _One thing_…"

"And I couldn't give it to you. I let you down. I'm a horrible person." Alex propped himself up against the nurses' station and rolled his eyes. "Just tell me one thing. Tell me that it wasn't nice having her there."

Lexie inhaled slowly and opened her mouth to protest for a mere moment before she pursed her lips and glared.

"Seriously," Alex goaded with a self-satisfied smirk. "Tell me she's a shitty big sister. I might even believe you."

Lexie paused for a moment too long as bits of the previous evening's conversation came rushing back.

"You shouldn't have to do it alone."

She narrowed her eyes maliciously to maintain some semblance of the upper hand, but she couldn't seem to stop her lips from curling ever so slightly at the memory.

"I hate you," she muttered, folding her arms defiantly. Alex's smirk widened as his hands found his hips.

"No you don't."

"She certainly wouldn't be the only one," Meredith remarked, her voice trembling slightly with controlled laughter. "We called him 'Evil Spawn' for the entirety of our intern year," she told Lexie with a wry smile.

Alex snorted indignantly. "Whatever. That was all Yang."

Lexie arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Hey, if the shoe fits…"

"Funny," Meredith murmured, narrowing her eyes impishly in Alex's direction. "That's exactly what Izzie said yesterday." She ignored the glare he shot her in response and turned to Lexie with a bright smile. "Coffee?"

"Coffee?" Lexie repeated dumbly. She stared at the outstretched cup with wide, uncertain eyes.

"Yeah." Meredith's smile dimmed slightly, and she began to gesture weakly with her free hand. "I, um…I owe you one. After last night." When silence prevailed again, Meredith's teeth raked slowly across her lower lip. "It's…well…I made it with sugar. Lots of…" She trailed off and glanced up tentatively. "That's how you like it, right?"

"Yeah!" Lexie's eyes widened appreciatively as her gaze flitted from resident to resident to coffee cup. Meredith thrust the drink forward again, and Lexie accepted it, blinking rapidly. "Thanks." She studied the cardboard collar in awe.

Meredith gave a small, awkward nod. "You're welcome."

"Is that one for me?" Alex interrupted, bobbing his head towards the second cup in Meredith's cardboard quad.

The elder Grey narrowed her eyes incredulously. "No," she scoffed. "I made you coffee earlier this morning."

"Whatever," Alex grumbled. "Who's it for, then?"

"Oh." A pretty pink blush crept across Meredith's cheeks as her eyes darted nervously between her companions. "Um, exclusivity. It comes with coffee."

Alex dipped his chin skeptically. "Seriously?"

"Shut up!"

Alex grinned wickedly after Meredith's disappearing frame

"She brought me coffee."

His grin faded to something decidedly more genuine as he turned to face the younger Grey.

"She even remembered how I like it," Lexie murmured reverentially.

Alex stuffed his hands in the pockets of his lab coat and leaned against the counter with a small, satisfied smile. "Yeah, she's good like that," he agreed quietly.

Lexie closed her eyes, brought the cup to her lips, and took a cautious sip. Her whole body relaxed as she swallowed.

"Hey, Alex?"

"Yeah?"

Lexie's lips curled just above the plastic lid. "Thanks for, um, making me mad and all."

He smirked. "Anytime."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Meredith strode firmly towards Derek's office, armed with an admirable amount of determination and one cup of black coffee.

_It's just coffee, _she reminded herself silently._ Because he's been on call for the past twenty-four hours, and he has to remove a craniopharyngioma from a little girl's brain, and he found lavender-scented _things _and asked for no sex. Because you're exclusive now, and this is what exclusive people do. They bring each other coffee._

She clenched her jaw and swallowed.

_You can do this. You spent years with your mother. You spent all night with your not-sister. You can totally do simple._

She inhaled sharply and raised her hand to knock.

"Hey."

Meredith jumped.

"Sorry." A warm, familiar hand brushed the underside of her elbow. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." She whirled around and put on a bright and shiny smile. "I brought you something."

Derek's mouth curled in a smirk. "I'm sure you did," he murmured, giving his eyebrows a suggestive wiggle. "Decided to reconsider yesterday's proposition about the office, did you?"

Meredith's eyes widened. "Derek!" she hissed, smacking him lightly with her free hand.

"What?" he laughed, sliding his warm hands from her shoulders to her waist. "Relax. There's no one around. We won't even have to be quiet." He leaned forward with mock solemnity and lowered his voice. "You probably shouldn't scream, though."

Meredith's eyes narrowed as he broke out another wicked grin. "Coffee," she bit out through gritted teeth. "I brought you _coffee._"

His brow creased as he accepted the cup she had shoved between them. He took a step back and began an intense study of the plastic lid, keeping one hand loosely on her waist.

Meredith fidgeted uncomfortably. "It's black," she offered quietly.

"I like it black," Derek murmured.

She directed a small smile at the floor tiles. "I know."

She watched as his fingers curled tightly around the cardboard collar. When she finally summoned the courage to glance up, he was staring at her with glittering eyes and a small, curious smile.

Meredith tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and studied her cuticles. When the silence became unbearable, she narrowed her eyes uncertainly. "What?" she demanded, scanning her figure self-consciously.

He slid his hand along her jawline until his thumb found her temple. Then, slowly but surely, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

When he pulled back, his smile was broader than she'd seen it in a long time.

_"I'm in love with you."_

Her breath hitched in her throat as he chuckled lightly and gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"Thanks for the coffee."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cristina heaved a sigh as she spun the knobs on the scrub room sink and forced her hands into the spray.

"Excited about the procedure, Dr. Grey?"

Cristina rolled her eyes in annoyance as the indicated intern sprang to life beside her.

"Yes, sir. It's such a wonderful opportunity."

"A wonderful opportunity?" Cristina snapped in disbelief. "This little girl could die."

Lexie swallowed. "Well, yes, but…it's a very rare tumor, and the odds are much better now that she's no longer suffering from hydrocephalus."

Cristina sucked in a breath as she recalled the grin on the pudgy girl's face when they'd first entered that morning. _"Dr. Shepherd! My head doesn't hurt as much today!"_

She closed her eyes and forced herself to remain objective. Focused.

"That's very true, Dr. Grey," Derek agreed in a low, measured tenor.

"Dr. Grey," Cristina began sharply, "other than hypothalamic injury, what are the risks involved in this surgery?"

Lexie shifted from one foot to the other as she shook her hands dry. "Um…a rupture of the cyst during removal?"

"Yes," Cristina agreed darkly, "and cystic rupture causes what, exactly?"

Lexie frowned. "Seizures?"

"Yes," Derek interjected. His brow furrowed in concern as he sought Cristina's gaze.

"Not only seizures," Cristina persisted. "Chemical meningitis. _Meningitis_, Dr. Grey. Which means what?"

Cristina felt a small twinge of satisfaction when Lexie's eyes began to dart nervously around the scrub room. "Um…a delay in radiation treatment?"

"_Dr. Yang_," Derek interrupted forcefully. "We've been over this. Dr. Grey is very familiar with our patient's condition. She knows more than enough to get her through surgery."

Cristina's brow smoothed as she shook the water from her hands and turned to face Dr. Shepherd. "Of course she does, sir," she agreed calmly. "I'm only trying to emphasize the delicate nature of the procedure."

"Consider it emphasized," Derek replied firmly.

Blue eyes met brown in a blaze of defiance.

"Dr. Grey, go ahead and get suited," Derek murmured softly. "I'd like a moment with Dr. Yang."

Lexie hurried into the OR. With a gentle _pfft, _the door slid shut behind her.

Derek's eyes flashed. "Dr. Yang, I respect your skill as a surgeon, but I cannot have this kind of negativity in my OR. As you've so frequently mentioned, this is a risky procedure. I need all hands on deck, yes, but I need those hands to be optimistic."

Cristina swallowed slowly and forced herself to appear neutral.

Derek's eyes narrowed. "Can you be optimistic, Dr. Yang?"

"Yes sir," Cristina replied quietly. "It's just…"

Derek's lips parted slightly as he watched his girlfriend's confident best friend fidget like a nervous teenager. His brow furrowed, and his tone softened significantly. "What is it, Cristina?"

Her eyes darted to the window, where Carly Parker's short, stocky body was spread languidly on the table.

"She doesn't deserve this."

Derek's frown deepened as Cristina's soft, sad voice echoed along the walls of the scrub room. "No, she doesn't," he agreed quietly, "but we caught it early. The tumor has yet to extend into the pituitary fossa or the ventral pons. It's a bad situation, yes, but there's a good chance that we could still give her the life she deserves."

Cristina snorted. "What, six weeks of radiation treatment and the possibility that the cancer will metastasize?"

"No," Derek countered meaningfully. "A clear head and a healthy life." He paused for a moment, allowing his words to settle. "We have to think long-term, Dr. Yang."

"She might not get long-term," Cristina argued bitterly.

Derek set his jaw and lifted his chin defiantly. "We have to believe that she will."

He used his elbow to activate the OR door, which slid open to allow him access. With a deep preparatory breath, he flashed a terse smile at his staff and exhaled.

"It's a beautiful day to save lives," he announced, glancing pointedly towards his resident. "Let's have some fun."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You did good work in there today, Grey," Mark declared gruffly as he scrubbed at his fingers. "You should be proud."

Meredith allowed herself a small smile of self-satisfaction. "Thank you, Dr. Sloan."

"I'm serious," Mark continued. "You show a real knack for plastics. Sure you don't want to switch specialties with your friend Karev?"

Meredith glanced up in amusement. "Mark!"

"What?"

"Alex is a good surgeon," Meredith chided. "You don't get to kick him out of your department just because he slept with Addison."

Mark scowled. "Unfortunately, you have a point." He switched the sink off with a sigh and reached for the paper towels. "I guess I'll just have to continue to torture the poor bastard."

Meredith rolled her eyes and accepted the roll of paper towels. "You know," she began dryly, "the two of you are pretty similar. You could be friends."

Mark scoffed. "Right. Friends." He shook his head in amusement and let out a hollow chuckle. "Hey, speaking of friends…what's wrong with Yang?"

Meredith glanced up from her hands in alarm. "Something's wrong with Cristina?"

"Sure seemed like it this morning," Mark shrugged. "She was being all quiet and introspective and shit. Plus, I think she actually let me win an insult war."

Meredith's eyebrows buried themselves in her hairline. "Cristina lost something? Voluntarily?"

"Exactly," Mark agreed. "The girl once told me to shove silicone implants up my ass, and today she passed up the opportunity for a snide remark." He shook his head in bewilderment. "I've gotta say, I'm a little bit worried."

Meredith tilted her head gently to the side and frowned teasingly. "Mark," she exclaimed softly, "are you actually being sensitive?"

Mark narrowed his eyes to mere slits. "No," he snapped. "'Sensitive' was searching through four different _Bed, Bath, & Beyond_s for lavender-scented tiki torches to redeem myself in the eyes of your lame-ass boyfriend. _This_ is scholarly concern."

Meredith gave an amused nod. "Right. Well. Thanks for the tip."

"Yeah, well…" Mark trailed off and reached around to scratch the back of his neck. "Like I said, Grey, good work today. I'm putting Karev on post-op, so you're free to go fix Yang."

"Thanks," she muttered wryly. "See you later, Dr. Sloan."

She slid out into the hallway and jogged to OR 1 in hopes of catching the rest of the craniopharyngioma removal. When she rounded the corner, she saw Cristina emerging from the scrub room, and her shoulders sagged ever so slightly in disappointment.

With a regretful sigh, she squared her shoulders and hurried towards her friend. She hadn't been able to see the surgery, but she knew Cristina would be happy to recount the entire procedure in graphic detail.

"Hey," she called as she slowed to a stop. "How'd it go?"

Cristina glanced up, looking pale-faced and stricken. "It went," she concluded dully.

Meredith's brow immediately creased in concern, and her eyes darted over Cristina's shoulder in a vain search for Derek. "Did she…?"

"She's fine." Cristina's voice was little more than a breath of air. "It's gone. It's all gone."

Meredith narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Cristina's vacant, unblinking stare. She'd heard that tone before.

"Cristina…"

"It's fine," Cristina murmured. "She's fine. She's going to live a long, healthy life."

Meredith's frown deepened. "You sound like that's a bad thing."

Cristina snorted. "Can you blame me? Look at us. A lot of crap can happen in a lifetime."

Meredith inhaled sharply and folded her arms. "Is it drinking time? 'Cause we can go to Joe's."

"No, we can't," Cristina grumbled. "I'm on call tonight. Someone's got to keep watch over the girl with a hole in her brain."

Meredith arched an eyebrow doubtfully. "You're sure one of the interns can't do it?"

Cristina finally met her gaze with a look of painful resignation. "I'm sure." She heaved a sigh and rolled her neck, allowing her curls to fall in front of her face. "Look, I've got to go. I have to round up the crackheads and make sure they haven't killed anybody."

Meredith cracked a small smile of acknowledgment. "Okay. If Derek lets one of the crackheads take your place, let me know, and we'll fill your hole with tequila."

Cristina pursed her lips wryly. "Not gonna happen," she countered. "Enjoy your post-surgery orgasm."

Meredith was just about to ask for clarification when the scrub room door swung open behind her. Almost immediately, two warm hands found her shoulders and spun her around.

"Kiss me."

Meredith's eyebrows rose considerably as she gave her boyfriend a concerned once-over. "Excuse me?"

His grip on her shoulders tightened noticeably. "Kiss me," he demanded breathlessly.

"Derek," Meredith scolded, "we're in a public hallway."

"Mm," he mused in agreement, "which means sex is _temporarily_ out of the question." His eyes were closed, and his forehead was dangerously close to hers. "Just one kiss," he murmured against her cheek. "One kiss, and I'll whisk you off to the nearest on-call room."

"On-call room, huh?" Meredith teased. "What happened to the office?"

He leaned forward and nipped her earlobe. "Too far," he whispered.

"I see," Meredith deadpanned. "What makes you think I'm having sex with you?"

He pulled back ever so slightly and opened his eyes. The intensity of his gaze warmed her to the core.

"Because I just removed a suprasellar, calcified craniopharyngioma from a six-year-old's hypothalamus without any complications or injuries," he informed her, his eyes sparkling wickedly in the neon light of the hallway. "I've just added years to her life."

"And now you want me to take a few years from yours?" Meredith teased.

"I want to engage in lots and lots of this," Derek murmured huskily, brushing her lips roughly with his.

Meredith closed her eyes for a moment in hopes of regaining some semblance of composure. She failed. "I think that can be arranged," she agreed breathlessly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was ten o'clock in the evening when Mark finished his last post-op. For the first time in a long time, he'd had back-to-back surgeries; victims from the restaurant fire had kept him busy all day. Sometime after the last burn victim, he'd come to the conclusion that Alex Karev had a decent future in plastics.

Moments later, Karev had bailed on a scheduled rhinoplasty to help with an emergency caesarian. It seemed that Karev had developed a taste for obstetrics during his time with Addison. Mark had a feeling that the resident's interest had less to do with the specialty than the teacher, but Mark couldn't really blame him. Once upon a time, Mark too had had a taste for all things Addison.

He had been grateful for the fire. He missed her less on busy days.

He rounded the corner and smiled when he saw a familiar shock of curly black hair. Addison had never liked Cristina Yang, but Mark did. He had a unique appreciation for brutal honesty, and he—more than anyone—understood the need for a shield of sarcasm.

She was sitting against the wall with her knees propped up and her head in her hands, and although it had been a long, long day, he slid down beside her without invitation and nudged her gently with his shoulder.

"How'd it go with the tumor?"

She glanced up with a tinge of disdain before leaning her head back against the wall. "We got it all," she admitted. "The whole thing."

Mark let out a low whistle. "Impressive," he murmured. "No complications?"

"None. No hypothalamic injury, no chemical meningitis, no lingering calcifications…" She shook her head in amazement. "It's like it was never there at all."

Mark arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Sure," he agreed dryly, "except for six weeks of radiation treatment and five years of freaking out every time she gets a headache."

Cristina let out a low, humorless laugh. "Yeah," she agreed dryly. "Except for that."

"Well, at least she knows what to look for now," he offered with a tasteless smirk.

Cristina snorted. "That's one way of looking at it," she muttered bitterly.

They sat in cynical silence for a moment before Mark spoke again.

"You want to know secret?" he murmured conspiratorially.

Cristina gave him a skeptical sideways glance. "If I say no, are you going to tell me anyway?"

He shrugged. "Probably."

Her pointed features contorted in the barest hint of a smile. "Figures," she muttered dryly. "Okay, McSteamy, let's hear your sob story."

Upon hearing her call him "McSteamy" in a tone dripping with sarcasm and disdain, he couldn't help but see a flash of red hair in his mind's eye. Addison hadn't taken his shit either.

He cleared his throat gruffly and began an intense study of the floor tiles. "Addison and I made a bet the day Meredith drowned."

Cristina's body went dangerously rigid. "You made a bet on the day Meredith drowned?" she repeated incredulously. "Are you _trying _to make me hate you?"

Mark rolled his eyes in a combination of amusement and exasperation. "Like I was saying," he continued pointedly, "the day Meredith drowned—_after _she woke up—Addison and I made a bet. She was watching Derek and Meredith with this awestruck, heartbroken look of confusion, and the moment I walked up, she told me that he'd never felt that way about her."

"So you told her you had." Her voice was crystal clear, but stoic. Resigned. Like she knew all the answers already, but had no clue how to feel about any of them.

"Yep." He paused for a moment to recall the gentle sheen of tears in Addison's eyes as she'd turned to him, and cleared his throat. "She told me that, if we could each go sixty days without having sex, she'd give us a shot as a couple. A real, honest-to-God shot. In public this time; no sneaking around."

"Let me guess," Cristina interrupted dryly. "You couldn't keep your dick out of trouble."

His laugh was a bitter, ugly, broken thing. "No, actually," he countered, scrubbing his face with a tired hand. "She couldn't keep her legs closed. She slept with Karev before time was up. I caught her coming out of the on-call room with her skirt on backwards."

Cristina's lips curled humorlessly. "Classy."

"Yeah." Mark paused for a moment and considered the underside of the countertop in front of him. "You know," he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "it's funny. I should be angry, right? I should be pissed off, because she didn't love me, and she ultimately didn't want me—no matter how much I changed for her. And I am pissed off, sometimes," he admitted with a sigh, "but mostly, I just miss her. And I hate that."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment before Cristina's frame shook with a tired, hollow chuckle.

"You know, I actually feel better now," she mused incredulously.

Mark cracked a small smile for the floor tiles. "Yeah," he agreed. "Me too."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After the mind-blowing sex against the wall of the third floor on-call room, Derek had suggested they go out for dinner. At first, Meredith had been hesitant. Despite the romantic beauty of their steak dinner picnic, she'd never been much for lavish displays. She hadn't wanted to pull rank with another "no money, no crowds, no dress" buzz-kill, but she also hadn't wanted to serve as the socialite to his surgeon at one of Seattle's five-star establishments.

She should've known that she'd have no reason to worry. New York Derek may have donned a tux to indulge his high-society wife, but Seattle Derek was—thankfully—more into high-class hole-in-the-walls. With a needling smile and an eager laugh, he'd tugged her into an old, run-down sports café that boasted burgers, fries, and personal pan pizzas. She'd ordered an overstuffed calzone to Derek's modest chicken club, and they'd bantered back and forth over Heineken bottles while they watched part of a Seahawks game and waited for their food to arrive.

"Hey," he'd prodded gently during one of the commercial breaks. "Why don't we get the food to go and head over to the docks to watch the ferry boats?"

Once they'd arrived at the docks, watching had turned to riding. They'd ended up on the observation deck, sitting across from each other and making idle conversation. Dinner had ended quickly, but Meredith had proposed game of Truth or Dare to keep the evening going. In the spirit of conversation, Derek had reduced the game to Truth.

Meredith had just finished answering a particularly grueling question about her favorite part of the brain when the sun dipped completely below the water and the lights flickered on.

"So," she began, grinning impishly, "why the thing for ferry boats?"

"Mm," he mused, leaning back into his chair. "My dad used to take me," he admitted with a reverent smile. "When I was little, he'd have consults in the city, and so we'd take the ferry together. He'd hoist me up onto his shoulders and point out all of the famous buildings along the Manhattan skyline. And then, whenever he was done at the hospital, we'd visit one." His eyes glistened in the lamplight. "The Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, the World Trade Center…he introduced me to all of them."

Meredith's breath hitched in her throat. She was mesmerized by the bittersweet tenderness in his. "That must've been amazing," she murmured softly.

He met her gaze with a warm smile that stole her breath. "It was."

He inhaled sharply and gave his head a gentle shake. "How about you?" he prodded with forced cheer. "Why do you have a thing for ferry boats?"

Meredith ducked her head shyly and fingered the frayed ends of a hole in her jeans. "Same reason, actually," she admitted with a terse laugh. "It was the only real time I got to spend with my mother."

"Really?"

She met his frown with an ironic smile. "Yeah. My school was just across from the hospital, and she had to take the ferry to get to work, so we'd sit together in the car on the cargo deck, and she'd tell me—in a very important voice, mind you—about all the surgeries she had scheduled for the day."

When he didn't immediately reply, she heaved a cleansing sigh and forced an impish smile as she met his gaze again. "My turn. Why _The Sun Also Rises_?"

If he noticed the abrupt change in tone, he didn't address it. Instead, he tilted his head to the side and arched a challenging eyebrow. "Why not?"

"I don't know," she laughed, "I guess I just figured from all the trout that you'd be more of an _Old Man and the Sea _kind of guy."

He laughed, and the tenor staccato made the corners of her mouth curl.

"Oh, man," he sighed, running both hands through his hair. "You do have a point. Seriously, though, I liked the adventure. The _travel_, the bullfights…" He trailed off with wide, excited eyes. "Besides," he offered, shooting her a sheepish smile, "there's more romance in _The Sun Also Rises._"

Meredith snorted. "I know an English professor who would be more than happy to debate that subject with you."

"Mm," he hummed sardonically. He took a moment to stare out over the water before turning to her with a frown that was both confused and apologetic. "You know," he confessed, "I don't think I know your favorite novel."

Meredith acknowledged the statement with a reserved smirk. "Is that your question?" she asked teasingly.

His chuckle was warm and relaxed. "Sure."

"_Great Expectations._"

Derek leaned forward in surprise. "Dickens," he murmured. "Really?"

Meredith's brow furrowed in something like offense. "You sound surprised."

"I am," Derek admitted with a laugh, "although I don't know why I should be. He rambles just like you." He shot her an impish smirk, which she met with a playful glare.

"He was paid by the word," she retorted.

"Really," Derek smirked. "And what's your excuse?"

She tossed a stray bottle cap in retaliation, and he let loose with another stream of laughter. She continued to glare good-naturedly until he piped down, but she couldn't deny the surge of pride she felt each time his laugh lines deepened. Derek was romantic and suave and introspective, but he was also terminally serious, and she loved that she could make him laugh.

"Okay," he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. "_Great Expectations. _Why not _Oliver Twist_?"

Meredith narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "That's two questions."

"Go with it."

She tried in vain to hide her smile as she considered the question. "Well, first of all, I never finished _Oliver Twist. _And secondly…" She trailed off and heaved a thoughtful sigh. "I don't know. I like the characters in _Great Expectations_."

"Seriously?" Derek prompted skeptically. "You prefer the tortured artist—who is it, Pip?—to the triumphant Oliver Twist?"

"Not just Pip," Meredith laughed. "There's also Estella and Miss Havisham…"

Derek squinted just over Meredith's right shoulder and ran a hand through his hair as he struggled to remember Dickens's complicated cast of characters. "Estella was…the girl Pip fell in love with, right?" He furrowed his brow as he waited for confirmation. "And Miss Havisham was the angry lady in the wedding dress? The one who burned herself alive?"

Meredith's smile softened significantly as the beloved characters came tumbling back in beautifully gory detail. "Yes."

Derek's frown deepened. "Wasn't Miss Havisham obsessed with Estella?"

"Kind of," Meredith agreed hesitantly. "She was more obsessed with shaping Estella."

"How?"

Meredith arched a doubtful eyebrow. "You want to turn our game of Truth into a lit class? Seriously?"

His eyes softened as a crease formed just above his eyebrows. "It's your favorite novel," he protested. "And I know I've read it before, but…I don't remember enough of the plot to…"

"To what?" Meredith prodded jokingly. "To attempt literary surgery?"

Derek shot her a playful glare, but his eyes conveyed a solemnity that didn't entirely escape her.

"It's your favorite novel," he repeated firmly. "Tell me about Estella and Miss Havisham." _Let me know you._

Meredith squirmed uncomfortably under the heat of his gaze and found a hole in the deck to stare at while she tried to explain her affection for Estella. "Basically, Miss Havisham wanted Estella to be a bitch—and, when Estella succeeded in becoming a bitch, Miss Havisham yelled at her for being cold."

Derek inhaled sharply. "And then what happened?"

Meredith shrugged and gestured vaguely with her hands. "Dress. Fire. Death."

Derek swallowed visibly and forced himself to ignore the limp blue frame that floated just behind his eyelids. "Estella dies?"

"No. Miss Havisham." Meredith shot him an odd look. "I thought you said you'd read it before?"

Derek didn't even try to conceal his sigh of relief. "It was a long time ago," he admitted. "So Miss Havisham dies, Estella feels like a failure, and…Pip doesn't get the girl either, does he?" He met Meredith's curious gaze with a skeptical smile. "I'm not sure I see the redeeming aspects of this novel," he joked.

She didn't laugh.

"You're looking at it glass-half-empty," Meredith insisted. She leaned forward and planted her elbows on her knees as her hands flitted urgently through the space in front of her. "Miss Havisham dies because her own bitterness drives her crazy," she replied frankly. "And Estella…"

She trailed off and sucked in a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, but fervent. "Estella's strong enough to be resentful."

Derek quirked a small, understanding smile. "And Pip is what? The tortured hero?"

"Pip has his own story," Meredith shrugged, "but to Estella…" She heaved a sigh and met his gaze with defensive apprehension. "Look, Miss Havisham spends her lifetime pointing out Estella's faults, but Pip…" She allowed herself the barest hint of a smile. "Pip loves Estella. Despite the fact that she's kind of a bitch."

Derek bit back a smile at the frank characterization. "Okay," he conceded delicately, "but the ending still isn't a happy one. I mean, from what I remember, his love remains unrequited."

"In the first ending, yes," Meredith acknowledged, "but Dickens wrote a second ending, where Pip is broken, and Estella is broken, and they meet each other at the ruins of Miss Havisham's old house and agree to be broken together."

"So they've destroyed each other," he concluded with a disappointed frown. He found it both painfully poignant and tragically fitting that this—two broken people co-existing—was Meredith's idea of a happy ending.

Meredith rolled her eyes. "No."

Derek's frown deepened in confusion. "So they're going to _fix _each other?"

"No," she muttered impatiently. "It's not about that."

"What's it about, then?"

She wanted to tell him. She did. But she _needed _him to figure it out for himself, so she pursed her lips together and fixed him with what she hoped was a seductive smile. "Read the book," she retorted. "It's my turn to ask a question."

For a moment, Derek looked like he was going to argue, but he gave her a tight smile instead. "Fine."

She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "What's your favorite part of the brain?"

"The cerebellum," he answered immediately.

"Seriously?" Meredith's chuckle was one of disbelief. "Four years of med school and seven years of residency, and you choose the cerebellum? Why?"

"Because the first time I saw one, I thought it was a piece of cauliflower," Derek retorted. "Is it my turn to ask a question now?"

Meredith considered him for a moment before rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Yes."

"Good." His smile widened boyishly. "What is the end of _Great Expectations _about?"

Meredith's eyes narrowed. "That's not a personal question," she countered dryly.

"Ah," Derek grinned, "but I think it is. I think it's an extremely personal question."

Her chest constricted painfully in a combination of fear and hope. Conversation had prompted them to speak openly in a way that had never been possible before, but they were still speaking in metaphors. They were still putting stock in the spaces between the words, and she felt at once amazed and terrified by the fact that he could still decipher her bizarre code of secrecy.

It still wasn't enough to incite a confession.

"I told you," she returned dryly. "Read the book."

The corners of his mouth curved in a wry smirk. "I just might," he volleyed. His impish grin dimmed to something decidedly more genuine as he reached out to tangle his fingers with hers. "I meant what I said, you know," he continued softly. "I do want to know you."

She squeezed his hand reassuringly and gave him a smile that stole his breath. "I want to know you, too."

Suddenly, he needed to be near her.

He released her hand to pat the spot beside him, and he breathed a warm sigh of relief when she stepped over the aisle and stretched out against him. He uncrossed his legs and propped his feet up on the chair she'd occupied moments before, and her head found its way into his lap. "Mm," he mused softly, mesmerized by the honey-blonde curtain that covered his thigh. "What do you want to know?"

She closed her eyes and smiled when she felt his warm palm on her crown. "Mm," she purred, reaching for his free hand. "Lots of things."

His eyes sparkled in the lamplight as he breathed her in. "All you have to do is ask," he told her seriously. When she glanced up in disbelief, the corner of his mouth quirked in a mischievous half-smile. "Technically, I'm required to answer."

"Technically?"

He laughed at the cute frown she gave him. "We're playing Truth," he reminded her. "Those are the rules, right?"

Meredith inhaled sharply. When she spoke, her voice was laced with shame. "Derek," she began hesitantly, "I don't want you to tell me things because you feel like you have to."

The statement was one of multiple layers, but Derek understood them all.

"Conversation was my idea, remember?" he chided gently. "I want you to know things." She glanced up apprehensively, and he met her gaze with a reassuring smile as he continued to stroke her hair. "I'd tell you anything," he murmured reverentially.

She snorted, and Derek's brow immediately creased in offense.

"Sorry," she snickered, "it's just…it's quite a change from 'that's all you've earned for now.'"

Derek's stomach churned painfully as he recalled the cruelty with which he'd treated her initial curiosity. He wanted to apologize, but Mark's words—_"Prove it"_—twisted painfully in his ears.

"What can I say?" He smiled ruefully. "I'm growing."

This time, she believed him.


End file.
